Make me a Believer
by Neshira Namea
Summary: The blight was over, the mother and architect defeated, and all of Ferelden celebrated with the hope of a brighter future. With a new evil rising the same hero had to journey once again to face it, but did she still even believe the world was worth saving
1. Chapter 1: Awakening the memories

Hey guys! As you may be able to see I've re-uploaded this chapter with some slight edits. It's by no means perfect but in celebration of chapter 7 being released today I decided to go through and fix some issues with the grammar and storyline. Not much is fixed but it does bear a re-reading if you'd like.

**For any new readers: **Hi there! Thanks for taking the time to read my little story. This tale takes place during and after the events of Dragon Age: Awakening but BEFORE the events of Dragon Age 2. There will be a sequel that will tie Dragon age 2 in as well. Also in my personal canon the events of Witch Hunt happen AFTER awakening and actually after this tale as well. You will see why by the end I promise.

Also I tried to keep in continuity with the actual game for the parts that are written here. Of course there is one extra thing I added and that would be...The Mabari hound! I couldn't have the story without him.

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Chapter 1 – Awakening the memories

It was colder out than Mhairi had expected as she escorted the elven woman down a packed earthen road. Land and a fortress that had once belonged to Arl Howe was now the property of the Grey Wardens and it was their new commander who made the air feel so _icy _even in summer. From the corner of her eye she tried to survey the tiny woman or categorize her in some way shape or form. The word was that she had once been a normal city elf from the Alienage in Denerim until she was somehow recruited into the Wardens. It seemed plausible enough with the way that those large teal eyes darted this way and that as they walked, as though the elf was expecting an ambush at any moment, elves were often a bit timid that way. The new commander was _tiny_ even by elven standard with black hair to the middle of her back that was worn in a simple fairly standard elven style. Her face was pretty average, not the most attractive nor least attractive elven face around, certianly by no means as beautiful as Mhairi herself was considered. The most curious thing she noticed about the newest leader of Ferelden's Grey Wardens was how she moved; almost like a cat...'_or an assassin_.' She added mentally. Perhaps those _other_rumors were true after all. Of all these observations nothing pointed out the cause to how she made the air so very chilly with only her presence.

When Mhairi had arrived to pick her up in the wintry fortress of Soldier's Keep, the elven woman introduced herself only as Namea, and very little had been said in the three days since as they traveled. Apparently she wasn't one for conversation. It almost made her human companion wonder how those others had traveled with her for so long in the past. "So...I understand you're from Denerim?" She attempted. "I heard that in the city there is always some sort of music playing." It was a last minute attempt but the tall woman really did want her companion's approval, after all she could be her boss very soon.

A cool teal stare pinned her but the short woman's voice was polite, if distant. "I had almost never been outside the Alienage until very shortly before I was conscripted for the Wardens. Life in the place was difficult but I was content with it at the time. Be glad that _you_ never had to go into an Alienage before..." She cleared her throat. "Before the king took his place and cleaned them up. They were dirty places, unfriendly towards humans and filled with crime and tears. The one in Denerim is the largest in Ferelden. I have been told that things are much better now that they are considered as individual Bannorns. Though I am certain there is much political tongue wagging and very little cooperation with the new elven Banns."

Mhairi almost stopped dead with her mouth hanging open, though she caught herself. It was perhaps the most Namea had said through the entire journey...in total.

Some of her shock must have showed, for the commander looked up at her with a puzzled expression. "Is there a problem, miss?"

"Well No I just –"She was cut off however by a sharp hiss from the rogue beside her.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She asked, blinking as she watched her experienced companion for any sign of movement.

"Exactly. Something must be heading in our direction or the birds would still be chirping. Hand to your weapons soldier." Obeying her own command, Namea had drawn both of the short swords strapped to her back. They were curved, of a make that the soldier couldn't quite pin down but they seemed to be made of a shimmering metal. Their hilts were plain, wrapped in leather and unadorned like most of what the commander wore.

The human reached back and drew her own long sword, sliding a large shield into its place on her left arm. The chainmail she wore rattled as the heat of battle began to creep upon her, bringing excitement and confidence. This eagerness to face what lie ahead was what endeared her to her leaders and fellow soldiers throughout her life in the army.

Namea looked over at her and almost smiled. Once she had been like that. Had it truly been that long ago? _Two years, three_? She thought for a moment about the young elf, fresh from the Alienage and eager to please as she stood before Duncan, the former commander of the Grey. 3 years was not a long time ago, and yet it had stripped from her that enthusiasm, leaving only a cold desire to protect her land. A cold desire to kill anything or anyone standing in the way of her duty. Would this young, lovely warrior end up the same in time? Better to die young and full of potential than grow up and realize that not all fantasies can be fulfilled.

Her thoughts shattered like fine antivan glass when the Keep soldier's footsteps became audible to her keen ears, running towards them and clearly pursued. His figure appeared and she slid forward, seeming to barely move, and yet reaching her destination in a flash. Genlocks chasing him roared at her, their grotesque faces twisted into some semblance of expression: Hatred. Darkspawn knew her, felt the taint within her, and feared her. The blood of their archdemon was on her hands and perhaps they could sense that as well for they attacked with a ferocity that could only be driven by desperate fear. Easily she cut the first down, then the second. Mhairi was at her side then, along with the soldier and the small band was defeated with a minimal amount of effort between the three capable warriors. As though by habit Namea was the last to sheathe her weapon and she glanced up at the tall woman in the winged helmet. "You're no ordinary recruit are you? A normal soldier escort would not have handled darkspawn so well." She noted, impressed in spite of herself.

The pretty woman flushed proudly and saluted. "I assumed proper introductions would be made at the keep. I am a recruit to the wardens, though I have not yet taken my joining."

Her elven commander nodded. "Very good. Our order shall be strengthened by your presence." With no further comment she looked to the bloody soldier. "I am Commander Tabris, what is going on at the keep?" She demanded coolly, placing her hand on his shoulder in what would be a comforting gesture from anyone else. From her however, the gesture paired with her cold stare was merely intimidating, and the man had to clear his throat a few times before he could speak.

"We were attacked Commander. The darkspawn swelled from below like nothing I've ever seen." He gasped. His eyes were wild and fearful but Namea just nodded as though it were to be expected. In her heart she felt a chill. From the ground? Darkspawn in numbers? How could that be when the Archdemon had fallen...it was supposed to be only stragglers now. She did not show her fear however, letting it remain to keep her alert beneath a wall of calm order.

"Get up the trail and alert the guards in Amaranthine that I will need their best. Only their best mind, the others would just be slaughtered." She ordered him. To Mhairi the elven woman turned again. "I sense them ahead, and this won't be easy. You are a competent young lady; prove that more than ever right now."

Rendered speechless, the warrior followed. Young lady? The commander could not be much older than her own 22 years she thought; then again, sometimes elves seemed to retain youthful appearances longer, even the city ones. Namea was already striking ahead on the path at an easy lope that would make a wolf jealous and Mhairi's much longer legs barely kept up. They cleared the gate and carnage met their ears and eyes. The Warden Commander stood there and within her mind, time stopped.

Before every battle it happened without fail. Her mind paused the situation and she studied it from all angles, analyzing and deciding on her course of action. The courtyard was in chaos with soldiers overwhelmed by darkspawn but she judged those men still alive and immediately found the one least likely to defeat his opponents. The world moved once more, though less than a few seconds had truly passed. She pointed towards the overwhelmed man and sent Mhairi to him before finding the thickest knot of darkspawn she could see and tearing into them with her blades. Once, she might have indulged in some battle banter, taunting her enemies and reveling in the glory of a fight. Now however she was cold, slicing throats and cutting into the weak points of armor with not a sound beside the occasional hiss of effort or small gasp when she was hit. Warm blood splashed upon her but it had been a long time since that could phase her. The seven darkspawn fell quickly and she found another overwhelmed soldier. From the moment she and the warrior recruit appeared no other men fell and soon darkspawn corpses littered the ground around them. After delivering extra bandages to the makeshift infirmary she stormed the front doors directly with the human woman in tow.

Darkspawn looked up as they entered and confusion showed in their beady eyes. A dwarf stood on the balcony, feigning terror before throwing something into the midst of the creatures, setting them all ablaze with a loud BOOM. Mentally, Namea reminded herself to find this man after the battle and ask what exactly that thing was. They cleared the fort efficiently, until upon entering a room the corpses of two templars and numerous charred darkspawn lay before them. "What are templars doing here?" Mhairi asked quietly, looking at her. The answer became apparent as a small group of hurlocks gathering around them suddenly erupted in flame and fell, explaining the charred remains around them. The smell of burning flesh filled their nostrils and together they turned to the source of the flames. From behind the blaze a man stepped, slipping the long staff he held back into its strap on his back. A mage. Namea had recognized the fire when she'd seen it, though it wasn't quite identical to the blazing attacks used by another mage she'd once known so well.

"Uh…I didn't do it." He claimed, looking down at the templar corpses. "Though I can't say I'm torn up about it…" His self satisfied smirk almost ruined the elven woman's calm exterior, though she held it by some miracle. He ran a hand through his blonde locks, still sleek in a ponytail. "The name is Anders, mage and wanted apostate, at your service." His chiseled face once more split in an arrogant grin as he raised one brow at them.

Her cool almost cracked again. His face, his voice, his mannerisms….he reminded her too much of someone, if a shorter more magically inclined version of them. She however, ignored it and lifted her chin in the usual polite distance. "I am Namea. Warden Commander of Ferelden, and I could use some help." She replied, narrowing her eyes at the robed figure.

The mage almost instantly dismissed her, instead eyeing her attractive companion. "I didn't know they made such pretty wardens…" He purred to Mhairi. The warrior was obviously not amused. "What kind of help are we talking about?"

"Help us clear the fort." The human answered, still giving him a look that said she'd rather he stop undressing her with his eyes.

Namea merely nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and trying not to be offended. To his credit, her face and hair were mostly obscured by the leather helm she wore and blood. Her armor, named Felon's Coat, also didn't particularly do much to enhance her feminine charms, not that she had much to begin with. Mhairi's breastplate armor seemed almost like it had been molded in the exact shape of her ample chest. Perhaps it had, soldiers were outfitted with custom armor all the time these days. Now was obviously not the time to be thinking such things however, and the commander shook her head, returning to the task at hand. "So come with us, or be left to your own devices, but I can see that you would be useful to us." She persuaded.

The man looked around, and then nodded. "Why not. Let's go then." Obviously he'd decided that he would fare better with two capable fighters than alone. Robes after all weren't exactly made to afford much protection against a sword or arrowhead. Vaguely Namea recalled a gruff voice saying something to the effect of "Mages are Squishy" at some point. It had been one of the soldiers from Denerim but the phrase had always stuck with her as pretty accurate.

Led by their shortest member the trio cleared their way through the keep again, saving survivors and killing darkspawn in droves until a familiar battle roar made Namea stop dead in her tracks. "It can't be…" She muttered.

It was. Amidst a hoard of snarling creatures he stood, swinging his great sword and smelling like a brewery. His flaming red hair was visible even as he was surrounded, but the darkspawn clogging his path fell easily beneath the strokes of the warrior dwarf's berserker skill. When the room was filled with corpses he gave a loud whoop and vaulted the railing, landing before the little group. "I knew if I waited here long enough ya'd come!" He cheered, slapping the elven commander on the back hard enough to make her knees buckle. The impact of his massive gloves against her leather would certainly leave a bruise. That was Oghren's way though. Sometimes his affections left friends more injured than the animosities of the darkspawn.

"He was here when I left." Mhairi spoke disdainfully. "Drunken lout."

"Well…a dwarf that smells like a brewery, what a surprise." Anders chuckled, echoing Namea's own earlier thoughts of Oghren's usual body odor.

At his familiarity with their diminutive leader Mhairi paused. "You know this dwarf Commander?"

She nodded. "Oghren is an old friend and a powerful warrior. He is partially responsible for the end of the blight." Her tone conveyed that any slander against him could possibly result in a well placed dagger in the dark of night. "What are you doing here?" She asked the stout man.

"Thought I'd come here and become a bona-fide Grey Warden!" He exclaimed joyfully, brandishing his sword at the air.

The human warrior blinked once, then twice and slowly spoke, choosing her words carefully so as not to offend the cold short woman she'd escorted this far. "I suppose all are needed to combat the darkspawn…" Her tone however said she was doubtful.

He chuckled and ran a hand through the shock of spiky hair on his head, then down over his intricately braided beard. "And a pretty lady like 'yerself would know would yeh? Dying to get a taste of ole' Oghren's Hammershaft…if ya know what I mean…"

Anders mimed gagging. Namea stood with her arms crossed but the corners of her mouth twitched just slightly. The tall woman just stared in blatant disgust before turning away with an expression that said she would probably rather mate with a Hurlock.

"Yer damn dog ran off with that bard before I could drag him along with me." The dwarf snorted. "I bet he'll be back…stupid mutt never could stay away from yeh fer long."

Nodding, the commander turned then led them through the remainder keep, finding it to their shock, clear. As they reached the back however, nightmares came to life. A talking Hurlock held a man captive, the Seneschal of the keep, according to Mhairi. Its voice was a syllabant hiss like gravel over tree bark. Even its words were not broken but said with an obvious intelligence and calculation. It sent a shiver down the elven woman's spine.

Talking darkspawn. Now Namea had seen it all. The group with it she left to her followers, they were more than capable of taking on such opponents. She however went after the mysterious talking creature; striking him from stealth and making him release the middle aged man in surprise. He struck back at her, stronger than any darkspawn she'd ever faced, and much more intelligent. This one didn't merely hack and hope it hit like the others. He watched her move, countered her strikes and timed his own. It was like fighting another intelligent person, which frightened the warden commander and excited her all at once. Finally however he fell to her superior speed, signaling the end of the attack on Vigil's Keep. She helped his near victim up and bowed. "It appears I arrived just in time."

Seneschal Varel nodded. "That you did. I have never seen a darkspawn like that before, but it is bound to mean something unpleasant." The call of a great horn alerted them and he looked up. "The king and his men are here at last, but I fear they are too late. You and your chosen party are an army unto yourselves it would seem." He brushed dirt from his shirt and looked to the distance. He had to be at least fifty but he held himself tall like a young man and spoke with a strong, if weary tone.

The elf shrugged. "Darkspawn die easily enough. These three are brave beyond any average soldier, without them this keep would be gone."

Oghren stuck his chest out proudly, grinning broadly and nodding. Mhairi smiled shyly, surprised but honoured by the compliment as Anders merely shrugged and concentrated on making sure his hair was not disheveled. The Seneschal smiled at them all. "Then we are glad you were here. Come Commander and friends, let us go meet the king and tell him of your timely rescue."

When he mentioned meeting the king Namea visibly paled, though only Oghren noticed, and the others walked ahead while he placed a hand on her shoulder with a gentleness that few would guess he possessed. "Be strong friend. Take this battle with ya like a strong drink and wear it like a cloak that makes ya invulnerable. Nothin' and nobody can hammer you down and that includes pretty-boy king out there." He smiled then and pushed her before him as though afraid she'd bolt. Little chance of that. They rejoined the others and quickly Varel had her in the lead beside him as though she were some sort of vanguard or hero. In reality, at the moment, she felt like nothing more than a woman. A woman about to see someone for the first time since they'd broken her heart.


	2. Chapter 2: Things laid to rest

**Author's **

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Chapter 2: Things laid to rest

Two faces greeted the small group, heading a column of soldiers. The first was a woman in templar gear who frowned as though someone had just fed her a particularly sour lemon. The second was a man, resplendent in golden armor and smiling. The way others deferred to him and shuffled around could only mean one thing: this was King Alistair himself. Namea didn't need any of these signs to tell however, from yards off she knew. The way he moved, the way he laughed, and that smile that took them all in, barely faltering when it reached her face gave him away. Oh she knew that smile well, and remembered how once upon a time it had brightened when he saw her, instead of falling. "Your majesty." Varel spoke, bowing low.

Namea followed his example, her voice surprisingly steady and cool she was proud to hear. Nothing more or less than the respect afforded to a king resounded in her tone. "Your majesty."

He looked at her with what may have been regret, and then turned to Varel. "I had come to give the wardens a formal welcome, I did not expect this. It appears I missed something, a pity; I rather miss the whole Darkspawn killing _thing_. What happened here?"

"Majesty, there was an attack of darkspawn, an _organized _attack led by one...Your majesty, the leader **spoke**. I heard him with my own ears. The commander came just in time and together with these people stopped the attack dead in its tracks."

"Ex-actly. I'm here tah become a Grey warden, and it looks like yeh could use me!" The Drunken dwarf called out with bravado. "Where is the giant cup, I'll gargle and spit."

"You're not allowed to spit Oghren." The elf answered coolly. Again, the corners of her mouth threatened to raise but the golden armoured man before her immediately made them fall.

"Eheheh that's what I always say..."

Alistair watched the exchanged with a certain nostalgia before finally responding to Varel."I expect no less from her Seneschal. It is not the first time an attack has been thwarted by her bravery and skill." The King began. He was interrupted however by the sour-faced templar who immediately pointed towards the ragtag group.

"This man is a dangerous criminal. A murderer!" She screeched.

Instantly Namea felt an overwhelming urge to plant a dagger to the hilt in the woman's armored stomach and slowly pull it upwards. Such violent leanings were commonplace to her now, not that it pleased her to admit it. Usually they were warranted...this time however it was simply the shrew's grating voice.

"I am not!" Oghren burst out, glaring and blasting the world with his ale-breath.

"Oh the Dwarf's a bit of an ass, but I wouldn't go so far as to call him dangerous." Alistair protested, shrugging at her.

"She means me." Anders answered quietly. It seemed his ego had been deflated.

The woman spoke again. "He is a wanted apostate that we were in the middle of escorting to the tower; he will be taken into custody and finally executed for his crimes!" The hag's irritating voice insisted.

Alistair sighed. "My hands are tied it seems, very we-."

Namea found her own voice, and used it, pulling her chin up with a haughty coolness and stepping between Anders and the templar woman. "I hereby invoke the Grey Warden right to conscription. You cannot take this mage." The last was said with more than a touch of smug satisfaction.

"The templars are above the right of conscription! He is a criminal and an apostate and he will see justice!" Came the angry answer, though it was obvious that the one who gave it voice was intimidated. Again, the mental image of the templar speared upon Namea's blade came to her mind, though she ignored it as she had the first time. It wouldn't do for political relations is the Commander of the grey killed a high ranking Templar as the King watched.

Teal eyes turned from the shrieking woman to her king, and former lover. "Alistair. The Rite of Conscription applies to all from lowly commoner to the king himself if a Warden so wishes it. Including apostate mages _and you know this_." The way she spoke was part pleading and part daring him to disagree because of his own templar past.

The words rang true however, and it wasn't likely that Alistair could look into Namea's eyes and not agree. She could have asked for anything at that moment and he probably would have said yes. Time stopped and a heart wrenching guilt held him glued to her gaze. She looked away first, and time regained its usual course. "Yes, of course Commander Tabris. The Rite of Conscription stands as stated. The Grey Wardens can recruit anyone, and this goes even more so for the commander of Ferelden. I am sorry, but I am certain that the chantry will understand." In a way, he meant the chantry had _better _understand if they did not want trouble with the crown. Once more the new Warden Commander felt a sense of satisfaction as the banshee impersonator's mouth worked furiously, much like a fish on dry land. Obviously the templar was flabbergasted and angered by the latest development. Everyone else simply looked on in confusion and in some cases shock. The woman had barely become commander and already she was standing up to the King himself and angering templars. Something about her definitely seemed similar to Ferelden's former Warden Commander at that moment.

"Mages have Autonomy now anyway." Namea growled. "You have no right to chase this man anymore." She knew that was stretching it. The chantry had no right to chace him for being a mage but if he'd committed any crimes technically he was still to be held responsible. The elf had never truly cared for the chantry. In her mind it was all rubbish and corruption used to control the world. She had no use for the Maker, Andraste, or any of their followers for the most part. Let Lelliana deal with religious claptrap, that was her specialty, and the commander could stay out of it. Thinking of the redhead drove home how long it had been since the two best friends had seen each other and Namea looked down, shaking any sadness from her mind.

"Well, that's one way to escape the chantry!" Anders cheered. "Imagine, me, a Grey Warden…that'll work!"

Reliving that memory of the night this journey had truly begun made Namea nostalgic and she looked over to where the others slept while she kept watch over their camp. The grey of predawn was just beginning and she watched it creep into the horizon. There was a reason she had set up the watch so that she always took this particular time. Then again, she also took one other watch each night. When the system was established the others in her little group had protested but Namea knew it was for the best. They had a schedule established; every night one person got to sleep the entire night without having guard duty at all. The others however each had to take a stretch of time to watch for any sign of trouble around the camp, all except for their elven leader who took two stretches instead and never had a night off. Even Oghren, the only one in the group who could claim any familiarity with her on a personal level could not convince her to give up a watch or take one night to sleep. It wouldn't matter either way; Namea didn't sleep very much at night anymore. When she tried, nightmares kept her from truly resting. When she was exhausted however, in those brief times between her guard shifts, she was able to sleep dreamlessly and somehow even though those times were never long she woke feeling refreshed and ready for the fight to begin anew.

Footsteps alerted her and she was on her feet with weapons in hand instantly, peering into the haze. Foggy nights like this always put her on edge, but she lowered her weapons when she heard the voice. "Whoa Whoa, it's just me. Unless you've suddenly decided I'm an abomination...in which case I should be running..." Ander's crooked grin became visible as he walked between her swords and stood directly in front of her, showing no fear for the cold starmetal so close to him. She snorted and sheathed her weapons, once more taking a seat with her back against a large rock. "You really are always ready to kill something aren't you?" He asked. His tone was joking, but a light of serious realization shone in his eyes.

"Yes."Came the simple, honest answer. She wouldn't bother to disagree, not when he was right. Why was he there? Anders was always the one hardest to wake in the morning. Oghren said it was because Mages were lazy...and secretly Namea thought he could be right, at least in the case of tower-bred ones like this one. In the time they'd been working together he'd become less insufferably arrogant and he got along well with the rest of the group, a fact she was thankful for. The Commander had no time to deal with petty disagreements.

"Why?" He looked over at her, tilting his head and giving himself time to study her for once. In the months they'd been traveling together he still hadn't gotten to know much about her. What little he did know all came from Oghren, though some of it was hard to believe. The berserker dwarf swore up and down that once Namea had been friendly, open, and cheerfully ready to do what she needed to. He said that she had cracked jokes with him and traded banter along with their other old companions. Stories of the old days were unbelievable to the newer traveling crew. Sigrun dismissed them as more of Oghren's drunken rambling, though she did express fond wishes that she could have seen the group back then. Velanna said that a group so full of idiots couldn't possibly have taken down the blight, though she showed admiration whenever Morrigan was mentioned. Nathanial would just look over at Namea with a calculating eye, as though trying to imagine the cold woman back then, smiling and open. Justice ignored the tales largely, unless they involved doing something noble, in which case he nodded because honour was the very least he could expect from the "heroes of Ferelden". Anders however, believed Oghren's tales. The dwarf had no reason to lie, and it wasn't likely that he could come up with such scenarios on his own.

"Because that's been my life for the past three years." She answered him finally, looking up. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" Her tone wasn't quite irritated, but it was close.

The mage shrugged. "Couldn't. Bloody nightmares were keepin' me up and I think my tossing and turning was scaring Ser-Pounce-A-lot." He mentioned his cat with a small smile very similar to a little boy's, then turned to her. "So, you never told me about your dog. Oghren says you have a dog out there somewhere."

"Maku?" The woman leaned back, and reluctantly patted the ground beside her, inviting Anders to join her vigilant reverie. "He's a Mabari war-hound. At Ostagar, before I took my joining, he was sickened with darkspawn blood. The kennel master asked me to grab some healing flower for him since he heard I was heading out into the Kokari wilds with my fellow recruits. I guess the flower healed him and shortly after the big battle he found me on the road and made it clear that he wanted to join us. He traveled with our group from that day on...tainted, like me."

Anders frowned at her last words. He was tainted as well now. Then however, the mage smiled. "Tell me about them?"

"About who?"

"Your old companions. Oghren tells stories but no one knows if they're true or not and I doubt he portrays everyone well." His look pleaded with her like a child wanting a tale.

The tiny woman sighed and looked over to where the others slept. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

"Well...let's see...First we met Morrigan, the daughter of Flemeth and a witch of the wilds."

"_The _**Flemeth**_!_" He asked in disbelief.

Turning to him she cocked her head. "So she claimed, yes. **The** Flemeth. Morrigan was a bit cold at first, but she warmed up. We became close actually...She was unbelievably stubborn, and hated it when we would stop to help the "little people." The chantry, templars, and life itself seemed to annoy her but she did have a love for jewelry...eventually we killed Flemeth when it was discovered that she was going to take over Morrigan's body. The old bitch became a giant dragon, but she died easily enough..." She looked over at him. "You and she had some similar views on mages in general. Views I happen to agree with for the most part." For a moment she pondered, then continued with the next person. "Then there was Leliana. She was a former Orlesian bard. Spy, assassin, and one hellova fighter. When we met her she was a cloistered sister in Lothering, trying to escape a bad history with her former mentor and lover Marjolane. Eventually we found that mentor in Denerim and..."

"Let me guess. You killed her right?" Anders broke in, smiling. People who opposed them now tended to end up dead so he assumed that it was the same in the past.

"Yeah. Pretty much. Then there was Sten. When we met him he was a prisoner in Lothering because he slaughtered a family. His entire goal was to gain atonement by helping us combat the blight. That and he couldn't return home anyway since he would be known as "Soulless" for losing his sword. The Qunari apparently believe that a warrior's weapon is their soul. His was named Asala and when he had that thing in his hands he was a monster." She shrugged and looked at the sky, thinking of the hulking Qunari man. "I liked him, he was honourable and quiet, good in a fight...**and** he had a weakness for cookies."

"Cookies?" Anders couldn't seem to believe that and he raised an eyebrow at her. Was the cold commander _joking_?

She looked at him, and he could have sworn she smiled slightly. "Yes Cookies. I promise it on whatever deity you choose. The man liked cookies."

It was odd, sitting there with the commander. For a moment as she spoke she almost seemed animated and friendly. Anders saw in her what Oghren had seen before; the person that the dwarf swore was in there somewhere. A kinder, warmer Namea was still alive within this block of ice, and the mage decided that he would find her and drag her to the surface somehow.

"Next there was Zev. He became my best friend in the entire world, closely matched with Leli for that title actually. Zevran was an Antivan Crow."

"Elite assassins the crows are." He'd heard of them, even met one once.

"Indeed. And he was one of the best. Fast, strong, smart...but no match for our entire group when he tried to kill me. Luckily, he had no loyalty to Loghain and he was all too eager to follow us. That man can crack a joke like no one I've ever known. He likes men and women however he can have them and his stories of sexual adventures are almost as exciting as his tales of assassinations." Nodding, she pulled a small curved dagger from its sheath on her belt. "This was his. It's the dagger given to all Antivan crows when they join the order. He made me take it with me to fight the archdemon, since he could not go himself. Said he needed to know that there was something dependable to defend me there." Tossing the weapon up and down easily she looked over at Anders as it slid home with a whisper into its sheath. "You have a question, I can smell it. Out with it."

"Well...rumour has it that you're a pretty skilled assassin yourself...Is he where you-?"

"Where I learned it? Yes in fact. I had all the basics of being a rogue already and my particular skill set fit the lifestyle perfectly...he just helped me to expand upon it." She placed the small weapon back in its sheath on her thigh. "Zev had a particular fondness for ruffling poor Wynne's feathers. You know her already though."

"Yes...but I just know her as the bossy senior enchanter that I hated. What are your thoughts on her?" He asked, trying to keep her talking.

"Wynne was like a mother to everyone in the group. She took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself and she saved our asses many times. The old lady look is a mask I swear...because that broad can kill darkspawn with the best of them and she never once complained of all the traveling." At Wynne's age most people would have had aches, pains, or at least a blister or two. None of that had ever come up though and whether the old enchantress was invulnerable or just awesome was something of a mystery still.

He looked down. "I never realized she could be like that. I suppose I let my own preconceptions about senior enchanters judge her."

"I doubt you'd be the first, and you won't be the last." She answered comfortingly. He looked up at her with raised brows. It was almost as though she understood him, knew what growing up in the tower was like.

"Who's next?" came the eager reply, again reminding her of a child with a story.

"Hmm...well I guess next is Shale. She's a golem forged upon the anvil of the void in Orzammar. Shale was rather hard to get to know. She called me IT the entire time we knew each other. I do know that she hated pigeons, liked being bedecked with crystals, and had a pet rock named Herbert that she adored."

"Pet...Rock." He asked in disbelief.

"Yes. Herbert. That made our camp pets total 3. There was Maku, Herbert, and Leli's nug Shmooples."

"You had pets at your camp? I mean besides the Mabari...they aren't really _pets_ I guess. So Ser-pounce-a-lot isn't the first." That explained why she'd given him the cat in the first place. She knew that it wasn't too much trouble to bring it along.

"No he's not. Although he is much quieter than that damn nug...stupid beast used to keep me up nights with its squealing. Not as quiet as Herbert though."

A joke. The Warden Commander had made a joke, he was certain of it. Her face remained completely impassive, but a glimmer in her eyes he'd never seen gave it away completely. That warm core was still there and he believed it even more now.

"Is that everyone?" He asked.

"Besides Oghren, yeah. You know him. He hasn't changed one bit at all."

"You have." Anders dared. "He told us."

The sparkle left her eyes and she looked down, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping slender arms around them as if to protect herself. "I know..." He cursed himself mentally for that and sought a way to bring back the friendly conversation they'd been having.

"So..." He tried to change the subject. "What happened to everyone?"

Luckily that opened her up again. "Leli is back in Orlais, we write to each other still and according to Oghren she has my dog...I guess she's spending a lot of time with our Orlesian Warden Ambassador. Zevran travels around a lot and we write but he and I are both pretty much two-liners in our letters. He went back to Antiva for a time but last I heard he was trudging around the free-Marches with one of our newer wardens that he's apparently smitten with. I seem to remember her being a rather pretty dwarf. Shale is helping fight darkspawn in the deep roads alongside the dwarves and I think they're happy for her help. Wynne, as you saw, was well and whole in Amaranthine but I expect she's made it to the collegiate meeting by now. Sten returned to his people and I haven't heard from him since, though I expect someday I shall meet him on the battlefield. I look forward to it. Oghren is here with us; obviously...Alistair is king..." She seemed to pause at that one, but got hold of herself quickly.

"What about the witch of the wilds, Morrigan?" He asked, tilting his head. An attractive woman with similar ideas of magic to him was interesting after all. Perhaps he should look this witch of the wilds up sometime and see if she was truly as wild as her title claimed.

"She..." Her eyes darkened and she looked down again. "I...She...She ran off back to the wilds carrying a child with the soul of an old god."

The mage gasped. "What? How is that possible!"

"She conceived a child that carried Grey warden taint and at the moment of the archdemon's death, its taint sought that child and carried into it, being destroyed by the baby's essence and turning it into an old god...or something. The entire thing makes no sense to me, I'm no mage."

"How in all the fade did she conceive a child with Warden taint?" He asked.

Meeting his eyes she sighed then looked away. "On the eve before we fought the darkspawn she did some crazy sex ritual with Alistair. It's his child."

Yesterday Anders would have said that nothing was unheard of. This was. "You're...serious! How...but...that's mind-boggling."

"Indeed." Her voice sounded sour, but not towards Morrigan he thought.

"I heard..." he began. "That you and Alistair were...but he recently married Elyse Cousland...so...I guess what I'm wondering is if..."

"No. We're not. The sun is rising; we should start packing things so that we can leave as soon as the others are awake." With that she stood and walked away with her back to him, once more as cold as she had been before. Something in her voice convinced him that he'd hit a note and he wondered if perhaps things had gone sour with the king.

"Stupid Stupid...I should not have brought that up with her." He hissed at himself. "I suppose I undid whatever progress I had..." Sighing he stood, stopping mid-crouch when he saw something lying on the ground. Without thinking he studied it and blinked a few times. A book lay open on the ground, its spine towards him. As he picked it up, something fell from it. The object was a rose, long past its prime and flat as though it had been pressed between the pages of the book. Of the book itself, he couldn't tell much, the spine was blank, as was the cover so he opened it. The pages were full of a neat spidery handwriting, filling the entire journal completely, for that, he realized, was what he held. A journal. Without thinking, he began to read the first page:

_Today I shall begin a new life. Father says that my groom is a good man, and I believe him. My father would never choose someone who wasn't good for me. He told me that when he and mother married she began a journal to tell her new life story, so I chose to do the same. I don't know how Shianni remembered me telling her that I was going to start a journal on my wedding day, but she did and this morning she appeared at the house with this book. I have been going to the shop every day, hoping that he would have gotten one of these in stock and with no luck. I had despaired that I couldn't start my writing yet. My sneaky cousin though, she apparently got her hands on one somehow and I adore her for it. On her wedding day I shall be certain to give her something with meaning as well. _

_I do not know where to begin, but I suppose I should introduce myself. Perhaps someday my daughter shall read this just as I read my mother's so devoutly. _

_I am Namea Tabris. I am 20 years old and today is the day I shall marry a stranger. My father is Cyrion, cousin to Valendrian our leader here in the Alienage. I live in Denerim, and I have only been outside the walls a few times to run errands. My mother's name was Adaia and she died when I was 10..._

Anders blinked. This was Namea's journal? He knew he should return it, and he would...eventually. With no further ado he found himself reading more and more, his eyes bulging as the journal told of her abduction along several other women on the day of her wedding. Lord Vaughn had raped one of her friends, but in the end he met his fate at her hands. The mage reading along felt it was justified and almost smiled as he read her recounting his death. The words were panicked and it was obvious she'd never before killed a man. She had been conscripted into the Grey wardens by Duncan, the former Ferelden Commander, that day, saving her from a grisly fate for killing a noble's son and that was when her adventure had begun in earnest. His eyes took in every word and lit when he recognized the word "Ostagar" in the next entry he read. Ostagar, the place at which the Wardens had been destroyed...and yet also where they had been reborn in the form of their newest commander.

_ Today was tiring, to say the least, but I must record all that happened here anyway. Duncan and I finally arrived at Ostagar and seeing all the soldiers gathered made me very glad that he gave me some training on our way. I wasn't much of a fighter before but I know I was recruited mainly for my wit and resourcefulness. Lessons given to me by my mother as a child cannot make a master rogue of me after all, despite my natural inclination towards it. Duncan says that already I am better than some rogues he has met, but I feel he may be trying to bolster my confidence. The men here are well trained and for the most part they actually showed me respect, except for the quartermaster, who assumed I was a servant the moment he saw me. After meeting my fellow recruits Daveth and Jory, both human, I met the warden who was to assist us in our joining. His name is Alistair and he hasn't been with the order long. _

_ I must admit, he strikes me as a rather odd human. The first thing I saw of him was that he was harassing a mage in a most amusing manner...well it was amusing for us, not for the mage. Immediately he made me want to be friendly to him when he said "You know...if there's one thing I love about the Blight it's how it brings people together..." I suppose he is what humans would call attractive, but there were many men in the Alienage I would claim better looking. My cousin Soris was sought after by many girls after all, though he won't admit it. Something tells me Alistair wouldn't either. _

_ Tomorrow there is to be a grand battle and I am incredibly nervous but tonight, as soon as the mages finish the preparations, is the joining. Daveth is all a twitter with random comments, and of course he is looking at any female in the area as a likely target for his last pre-joined dalliance. He's even made comments at me! Perhaps I will find time to join him in a quiet corner later...he is rather attractive in a wisecracking sort of way and they say that it's a good way to relieve tension and anxiety. I've certainly enough of that! Ser Jory irritates me, to be honest. He is a knight and all he can talk about is honour, how he's good at fighting, swords, or his pretty wife Helena who probably doesn't have a single thought in her head beyond jewelry and fancy clothes. _

_ That was uncalled for. He may be a rockhead, and married to a fluffhead, but Ser Jory is a good person and I should be honoured to serve with him...even if I did save his ass in the wilds today...twice. _

Her comments about the fellow recruits made Anders laugh, but mostly it was what she'd written about Alistair that gave him pause. So that was how they'd met then. It was amazing to think that the cold impassionate woman who stood even now organizing supplies was the same cheerful optimistic young recruit who had written this journal. He continued reading, picking out random tidbits here and there. He read her account of the joining in which one of the recruits had died and the other was killed by Duncan. "Well...I certainly hope Daveth got his time in the corner with her before the darkspawn blood took him..." The mage muttered. Turning the page he read through her account of the battle at Ostagar, and the rescue by Flemeth.

He felt for the young woman writing the words. She was terrified, barely able to fight and suddenly being thrust into the middle of a battle with a near-stranger by her side. All of that was after watching two of her fellows die in different – yet both traumatic – ways. She was grateful to Alistair, an experienced fighter, for protecting her through the tower until the signal flame was lit. It was hard for Anders to imagine a time when she wasn't dispatching Darkspawn with a casual grace but from her journal it seemed that she'd mostly been hiding behind Alistair and occasionally sneaking up behind one with her blades. At that point she had admitted that she only knew what archery Duncan had taught her.

After the rescue her writings became more confident, slowly less childish and more mature but still amusing. She had a sort of snarky humour that he enjoyed reading. Passages struck him as funny and he kept reading, memorizing certain parts that he enjoyed.

_Morrigan was antagonizing Alistair again today. Those two just don't know when to quit. I swear that Maku understands it as well as I. He sighed today when they began and looked at me with an expression that said plainly "Can we go scout ahead and leave them here?" It was quite funny really. I pity Alistair sometimes...but he does bring it on himself. One should not go unarmed into a battle of wits..._

_...Today someone tried to kill me. I know darkspawn do it every day, but this is an actual assassin! He was hired by Loghain. Luckily he seems harmless enough. I think he's more interested in taking Leli's heart than he is taking my life. Poor girl seems halfway torn between amusement and annoyance at his constant attempts to flirt..._

_ ..The urn of sacred ashes was glorious. I am not a devout Andrastan, I will admit, but it was still a sight to behold. Leli cried when she saw it, Alistair almost did too, I could tell. Wynne seemed quite taken with it in her own way but by far the most interesting reaction was Zev's. When we approached the sacred object and I took a pinch for the Arl I heard him say behind me "Nice Vase. I should get one for my house." I couldn't help myself, and I laughed aloud. I hope the guardian wasn't watching..._

He laughed at her anecdotes. By the time dawn was truly upon them he was more than a quarter through with the hand-written tale of her adventures and he enjoyed her notes on everything. For every serious tale of their adventure there were small side notes in the margins that contained her own reactions and feelings to everything. Almost always these made him smile, but occasionally they made him sad. When she called to him, he stopped and almost dropped the book, catching it barely on a random page he'd not yet reached. She turned back to camp and he looked down. He had turned the page to see where the rose must have been pressed. One of its petals still remained there and the passage finally told him what the flower's significance was.

_ ...We are here in the deep roads of Orzammar of all places when Alistair stopped me, letting the others get ahead before speaking. I think Wynne knew what he was saying because she kept them back and engaged them somehow so that they would not overhear. "Do you know what this is?" He asked me, holding a single red rose. Obviously I did, who doesn't know what a rose is? I answered with humour instead since I was genuinely confused._

_ "Your new weapon of choice?"_

"_Yes, that's right! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" _

"_You've been fingering that flower for a while now..." I added, looking up at him._

"_Yes...I found it outside of the chantry in lothering and I thought to myself that it was nice to see a thing of such beauty amidst all this chaos...I took it because I knew the darkspawn would just come and destroy it with their taint..."_

"_But picking the flower still kills it...just differently." I answered. Apparently I didn't understand what was truly going on because he chuckled. I could feel my cheeks heating. After all, I've made no secret in this journal of my growing feelings towards the tall templar I have been traveling with._

"_I picked it...because in a lot of ways, I think the same way about you. We all go on about this, but it hasn't been easy for you either...and I want you to know I've come to...care for you..."_

_My heart skipped a beat. "I...care for you too Alistair." I heard myself admitting. _

"_Really? I'm glad...then..." I thought I was dreaming as he leaned in...hell I'm halfway certain I dreamed it now, except that when I look at Alistair he smiles at me in a way that tells me he's thinking the same thing. He kissed me, right there, covered in blood in the middle of the deep roads. I didn't care about the setting. I kissed back happily enough. Maker, I think I've fallen in love...silly stupid girl that I am...I'm in love with Alistair. He's the son of the king, but as of now that doesn't matter...Eamon wouldn't think of...no he couldn't. I'll deal with that when it comes...if it comes. Andraste willing I hope it does not._

But it had happened. Anders knew that and he looked up at Namea, wanting to read on and see how she reacted. The camp was stirring however so he stashed the book in his pack and scooped Ser-Pounce-A-Lot up in his arms instead, walking towards the commander. "Can I help with anything?" He asked. Even after reading that little bit of her journal he felt like he knew the woman better, but it troubled him as well. The woman who wrote the journal, the woman who was telling him about her friends...they were the same. What happened to her? Why was she gone and why had this cold person come instead?

She jumped when he approached. In itself that was odd and she turned to him with large eyes. "Oh...I uh..." He had never seen her caught off guard before, and smiled mentally as she took the cat from his arms to cover up her momentary loss of vigilance. It was strange, but Ser-Pounce-A-lot rather liked her. He batted at the locks of her hair hanging over her shoulders and she wrinkled her nose at him in a gesture of amusement.

Anders studied her in that moment, when it seemed that she thought no one was looking. She held to the cat as though she needed affection, nuzzling his soft fur and the mage smiled softly. In the light of dawn he could almost _see_ her. She was radiant. He realized his thoughts suddenly and shook his head, clearing them before turning. "Ah well...eh...call me as soon as you're done and we're ready to move." Before she could note his expression, he turned away.

He didn't see her staring after him, still holding the cat close to her with a haunted look on her face.

Did he even realize, she wondered, how very much he resembled a certain royal bastard?

The sun set and they once more set up camp, glad that in another night they would be back at Vigil's keep, and able to sleep indoors for a night or two before taking off again on some other ill-gotten errand. Sigrun looked around at her companions with a sigh. Oghren was drinking from a skein of ale and for the millionth time she wondered where the hell he stored all of them. He must have gone through four or five every night they'd been on the road. Justice was sitting a way off, staring into the distance as though he were looking into the fade itself. Idly he stroked the band of lyrium around his finger. With her spyglass the dwarf legionnaire could see Valenna some ways off, setting snares for dinner with Nathaniel. The two seemed at ease together and their unseen watcher wondered if perhaps something was blossoming...and hoped not. Neither of them were of particularly cheery dispositions and together she was certain their sour natures would just fester and spread. Namea was scouting their back trail and clearing it, as she did every night Sigrun knew. That left Anders, who appeared to be wrapped up in some kind of book. He was always good for a laugh. She bounced over to him, settling herself beside him and peering at the tome. "Whatcha reading?" The cheerful woman asked. "Is it some ancient magic thingamajiggy that will teach you how to turn sand into cheese or something?"

He laughed and patted her on the head as he often did. "No in fact...it's more interesting in that..." His eyes darted this way and that and he licked his lips nervously before leaning in to tell her a secret. "It's...the commander's journal of her former exploits."

Her eyes grew wide. "No way...where'd ya get that? Did you nick it from her pack?" Obviously she was impressed, and curious. "Can I read it too?"

"Actually It sort of fell out of her bag...I guess she hasn't noticed yet...and you can if you promise to keep it quiet...our other companions won't like knowing we've got this...and if she found out..." He shivered. "I doubt we'd survive long."

"I promise I won't tell!" She swore. "What part are you on?"

"Well...our heroes, including the warden Namea, Have just returned to Denerim after securing their final treaty. They first went to the tower of Magi at Lake Calenhad and found it overrun with abominations."

"Were you there?" She asked curiously. Anders had told her once that he spent most of his life at the tower.

"No, it was during one of my escapes." He answered. "They found the tower in chaos and ended up confronting a sloth demon and escaping the fade before they finally made it to the top and saved first enchanter Irving. A pity they didn't let the old goat die in my opinion...Namea hated the fade it seems. She swore if she could help it she'd never go back. After that they traveled to Honnoleathe and found a golem after killing a desire demon who had taken the form of a cat. Next was a trip to Redcliffe where they saved the entire village along with the knights and brave villagers. That's where they found out Arl Eamon was sick. Apparently our commander even had a bit of a thing for Bann Teagan." He chuckled. "After that they went to Denerim just briefly to find out that brother Genitivi was gone and his assistant was murdered. After finding him in some cult village and curing Eamon with Andraste's own ashes they were off to the Dalish camp and managed to save the clan AND a group of cursed human werewolves. Finally they ended up in Orzammar where they sided with Harrowmont for kingship and went into the deep roads to find the paragon Branka who turned out to be a real bitch. That was Oghren's wife." He took a deep breath. "Right now, they've returned to Denerim to pick up some custom armor ordered from Wade and they're knee deep in mystery with the Antivan Crows."

"Antivan Crows...the assassins?" She asked, having read about them once.

"Yup, that's them. One of their companions was a former crow too, Zevran."

She nodded. "Is there anything juicy? Any forbidden saucy romances or assassinations?"

"Well, there was a woman duelist at the Pearl named Isabella and of course the whores at the brothel...From what I'm reading here, our little Namea was a bit of a sensualist. Before she left her Alienage she was involved with a human soldier there for a bit of no-strings-attached fun."

"Oh! Does it mention her maybe...being with Alistair in there? Oghren claimed she was the other night but I don't believe him." Sigrun noted. "Alistair is the king now too...if she was his lover wouldn't she be...I don't know, sitting in the life of luxury?"

"They were in love." He paused and shrugged. "It's in here...and they were definitely in love but I haven't gotten to know what happened yet though."

The dwarf tilted her head. "Well that sucks." She settled in beside her human friend so they could share the firelight. She didn't read as fast as he did but he always let her catch up before turning the page and they would gush over what they'd read, sharing predictions and observations. It was almost like an action novel! He turned another page and Sigrun's brow furrowed. "This page looks like it was wet at one time...hey, there are only a few pages left in the book!" She exclaimed.

He nodded curiously and counted the remaining pages. "It looks like the adventure is coming to a close...and I think we've just found the page that explains what happened between our Commander and the King.

_So, it's done. Somehow between Eamon's pleas and the fact that Anora has proven herself to be a complete copy of her traitorous father...I agreed to place Alistair on the throne. Why did I do this? I don't quite know...but I do know now that I hate myself for it. I returned to his room after the landsmeet, and there he was, sitting in his casual clothing upon the bed. Happily I ran to him as he stood and hugged him tightly. "We did it Alistair. Loghain is dead and the civil war has been averted! That's one of our hurdles down, now we just have the tiny matter of a blight to conquer, right?" I joked._

_His expression was severe and he picked me up off of my feet and set me down in front of him, effectively removing my arms from about his waist. "We need to talk." _

_Maker. I hate that phrase. It never goes anywhere good. "Oh? What's up love?" I asked. _

"_I...I am king now and though I didn't want this, it has happened and I see why you did it. Anora was willing to betray you to Cauthrian, She obviously isn't the most loyal of people. But...this raises some questions about...us."_

_A feeling in the pit of my stomach made me sit down. "Us?" I asked, unable to say anything more._

"_I...am king now. I will need to produce a child...to marry a woman who can be seen as queen..."_

"_I thought you loved me." Those words dripped from my mouth quietly and I know I sounded as shattered as I felt. _

"_Maker, I do. More than I ever thought I would love anyone...but I am a Grey Warden...as are you. Do you know how hard it is for ONE of us to produce a child, let alone two? And you are an elf, that just __adds__ to the complications...and to make it worse...I may love you but the world still only sees an elf. They would never accept you by my side." His voice was plaintive, as though he were begging me to believe him and his eyes were sad. _

_I just stared, I think. My eyes began to water and finally I stood. "I...understand. I...I need to go and...patch my armor." _

"_Namea..." He held out his hand to me and I turned with a smile on my face, though I was trembling and my eyes were watering wildly._

"_Alistair. We have a blight to stop. I understand everything you've said and you are right." Turning, I walked back to him and leaned on my tiptoes, barely able to reach his face with my hands and pull him down for one soft kiss. "You will be a great king. Your people will love you and be loyal to you and so will I. Be happy. Marry a beautiful woman who makes you happy and raise a family to rule Ferelden for centuries after we're dead and gone...and..."_

_He looked at me. "And?"_

"_And...Remember me always as your friend. Look fondly of the times we've had together and know that if you ever need me, I will be there with swords drawn at your back. You are my brother in arms...and a dear person to me. As long as I live, my swords are yours...my king." I bowed then, as gracefully as I could, and walked away. He may have called my name, I am unsure truly. I only know that when I returned to my room Wynne was waiting for me. She held me while I cried myself out against her, smelling the soft floral soaps she used and holding to the soft fabric of her casual robe. She helped me remove my armour and then she stroked my hair and her voice whispered soft words to me until I think I fell asleep. When I woke she was gone, but despite the tears I felt no lighter and I found myself furiously practicing against thin air, slashing at it with my daggers though I wore only my under clothes. I was angry and hurt and I wanted to die. I'm still angry and hurt...but I don't want to die anymore._

_I don't know how long he was standing there, but after a few moments I felt strong arms enfold me from behind and someone pulled me close, restricting my movement. The tan skin and his smooth accent at once alerted me that it was Zev and he held me tightly enough to nearly bruise me. "Anger accomplishes nothing my friend." He reminded me. "Passion is good, but when you fight you must be anything but passionate. When you fight you should be cold as the blade you wield or your enemies __will use your passion against you and you will fall." His chin rested atop my head and I felt the tears coming again. Finally my knees buckled and I slid to the floor with him following my every movement and gathering me to him in the protective hug of a brother. Once more I cried hard and Leliana eventually joined us, wrapping her arms around me as well. The three of us rogues sat there until morning came and I cried until I once more slept. When I woke, not only were they still there, but Wynne was back, Oghren was sitting on my bed, and Sten leaned against the door protectively while my dog lay as close to me as he could get with his head on my lap. My friends. My dear wonderful friends were there. _

_Eventually I shooed them away with fake smiles and assurances that I was fine, except for my dog. Sten was the last to leave however and he walked over to me, tilting my face up with his hand so that I had to meet his huge smoldering gaze. "Kadan, be strong. I still see the same unbreakable power in you that I have always seen, and this is good. Do not allow this to change your resolve against the blight...and know that if you need me, I am near." With that, he placed his hand on my shoulder and left me with Maku, who whimpered and licked my hands as I stood there. _

_They were right...all of them. I have to be strong to end the blight. Like Zevran said, I must learn to be strong in all circumstances. I shall train today, and pack, for tomorrow we leave to fight the archdemon and I shall make sure, with my life if I must, that the blight ends. _

Sigrun looked at Anders with tears in her eyes. "Poor...commander Namea...I never imagined..." Looking down, the little dwarf was thoughtful. "Those people, she truly cared for all of them...and now she doesn't have anyone except us. We must show her that we care about her like they did...and that she can cry on us too if she needs to."

The mage nodded. "I agree whole-heartedly. I wish I could show her that I am here for her, but I doubt she'd listen to me." His eyes were dark and Sigrun looked at him suspiciously, and then she began laughing. "What? Why are you laughing?" He asked curiously, raising one eyebrow in her direction.

"You. You don't realize it, or maybe you do…Anders, you've actually begun to really care about our Commander. The question is whether it's the commander in the journal or the woman herself." She laughed again and slapped his back.

"They're the same person…and I…You're wrong of course."

Her eyebrow rose this time, stretching the light tattoo across her face. "Are they? The commander is broken Anders. She is cold and frightened inside, that's obvious from this journal. The woman in here however is strong, resilient and fearless, funny and caring…overall she's like…a warm brew on a cold winter's day. Our commander…well she IS the winter's day."

His eyes were watching Namea as she entered the camp again, throwing another log onto the fire and stretching muscles that were likely sore. Her hand ran through black hair and she frowned. It really had grown since they began their journey. Back then it had barely passed her shoulders with two braids coming from just above her ears that met and joined in the back of her head. Now it was all the way to the center of her back and she simply put it into one plait usually. Right now she unbraided that plait and her hair waved free and soft down her back, a dark sheet against the greys of her form fitting armor. In the shadows that armor blended perfectly, making her seem a part of them, which was probably why she wore it. It was unlike any armor Anders had ever seen, and definitely different than the studded leather she had worn when they met. This armor sheathed her entire form, arms and legs included. She wore it with slightly darker shaded boots and fingerless gloves. Belts crossed her chest and hips, holding weapons and various compartments for herbs and poisons. All in all, it was an outfit that immediately told any looking upon her that this woman was dangerous and unapproachable. It was probably meant to do that.

"See what I mean? You're watching her Anders."

He sighed. Sigrun was right, loathe as he was to admit it. "Our commander was once the woman in this book and she will be again. I will make sure of it…before our journey ends I swear we will see her smile at least once."

"Good luck with that friend. I'll help however I can." Sigrun piped up. He looked at her in surprise and she smiled. "She's a good person, even beneath the ice. She deserves to be happy and she has done a lot for me. I want her to smile."

An accord was made, then and there. Between the two of them, somehow, Anders and Sigrun were going to melt the ice surrounding their commander.


	3. Chapter 3: In War Victory

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! Chapter 3 is here. Thanks for your patience. As always you can ask me any questions via PM or email.

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Chapter 3: In battle Victory

Vigil's keep welcomed them and Namea groaned as she flopped backwards onto the bed in the center of her room. Though she was the commander, she had chosen a relatively small space for her own with a bed, desk, wardrobe, and storage chest. Her real extravagance was in the fine Dalish woven blanket on her bed and she held it against herself. It was near midnight and though she'd slept a bit, no more would it come to her. Sighing, she stood and wrapped the thick green robe she kept for evenings around herself, pulling her hair over one shoulder and lighting a candle. Her room had a large window and it was lit fine by the full moon, but not all of the keep was so well endowed in the lighting department. As usual she slid Zevran's dagger into place with its thigh sheath beneath the robe, easily accessible in any scenario. Then holding the single tiered candelabra she left her room and walked with the silence only an assassin could muster within the halls of vigil's keep. Cold stone met her feet as she traced a familiar path to the library, using the candle to light the large fireplace and curling up in front of it with a large tome of fairy tales.

As she read her mind blanked out and she felt more comfortable than she had in weeks. While at vigil's keep she did not have to be as constantly on edge as she was in camp, that was what the guards were for. Here she could relax slightly, even if she still could not sleep. Footsteps however knocked her from her reverie and she launched herself up with dagger in hand, waiting breathlessly.

Cool blue light appeared before the person himself, non-flickering and obviously magical in origin. It cast a ghostly appeal across Ander's features and he blinked in surprise to find her there. "Erm…is this library taken?" He asked with a smile.

"I…no of course. What are you doing up Anders?" She asked, re-sheathing the dagger and collecting herself enough to pull the robe close. It was an odd parallel to another night weeks ago and she raised a brow at the mage.

He cleared his throat and avoided looking at her until the robe was securely back in place. "I couldn't sleep. I usually go to the observatory when that happens, but tonight I saw the light from your fire on my way and came to investigate."

The Warden Commander nodded and gestured for him to join her, lest the heat from the fire escape through the open door. "I see."

"I'm sorry if I disturbed or frightened you." He chuckled, closing the door behind him and dispelling the mage-light. Haloed by the fire her features gained a softness that they normally did not have. She wore a long shift that reached her knees beneath the green robe and that appeared to be it. Strange to see her without armor, since while in camp she even slept in hers, but he couldn't help but admire the way her hair lay over her shoulder and a glimpse of her pale chest was visible over the top of the robe. In a way, she looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her and his manly feelings of wanting to protect something activated.

"It's alright Anders. I am just a bit jumpy, that's all." She leaned against the cool marble of the ornately carved fireplace mantle, sliding to a sitting position with her back still resting against it and her legs folded neatly to her side. He ghosted over, seating himself across from her, leaning on the other side of the mantle. "It is odd to see you not in robes or armor." She noted, gesturing to him. In camp, Anders usually slept in his under-armor at least, or a mage robe, depending on what he'd been wearing that day.

With a flush he realized that he was wearing only loose pants he slept in. His torso was completely bare. "I…yes well, I take the opportunities here to sleep comfortably." He answered, hoping the fire hid his heated cheeks.

"Well I shall definitely correct the next person who tells me that mages are all flabby weaklings." She said quietly. While not as muscular as many large fighters she'd known, Anders had a tone and strong physique with a few scars crossing his chest and stomach. In truth, she realized his body somewhat resembled Zevran's in its lean muscularity, if not quite as defined. The slight thrill of attraction to it rose, but she quickly shot it down. Apparently it had been too long if she was looking at him like that.

Again, it seemed that she was more open in the dead hours of the morning, when no one could see or hear her. He wondered why, but he did not fight it. If she was willing to talk, he would not dissuade her. "Ah, this is good to know. Will you please also dismiss notions that we are pure and mystical people with no human urges or expression?"

"Oh? Is that so? I'd always heard mages were devoted to Magic and nothing more." She answered, raising one brow.

"I happen to collect shells." He added. "And I am fond of making things like jewelry or sculptures."

"Now I didn't know those things. Any other dire secrets you've been keeping, Ser mage?"

"I used to write bad poetry." At her sudden scowl he added "I stopped."

She made a great show of cleaning her nails with that ornate dagger, looking him in the eyes. "That was a very wise choice to make Anders…if you had not stopped I may have to kill you solely on principle. There is nothing so detrimental to the world as bad poets…and that includes archdemons, darkspawn, abominations, and Oghren's personal hygiene choices."

He laughed aloud. There it was, she'd once again made a joke! And it happened, in one instant he saw it; A small smile on her face. "You, Commander of the Grey, have been hiding the fact that you are funny!" The Mage mock lectured, wagging his finger at her.

She rolled teal eyes skyward and crossed her arms. "Just don't tell anyone and you may live to see the sun rise." Namea purred.

First he chuckled, then burst out laughing. For a moment she simply stared at him…then suddenly she was laughing too.

It was a soft, bell-like sound, warm and bubbling from her very core as she joined him. The two laughed together, trying to stifle themselves and each other unsuccessfully for many moments until He looked up and saw that she had tears running down her face. "Oye! Don't cry!" He stood and rushed to her side, kneeling with a hand on her shoulder.

The commander shook her head and looked up at him with a smile. "It is simply that I laughed so hard. I think an ash flew into my eye!" Chuckling she wrinkled her nose and placed her own tiny hand atop his. "Thank you, Anders, for your concern."

He nodded and smiled, and that got them started again, first small giggles, then once more full out laughter until they were both shaking with mirth, her head resting lightly on his shoulder and his on hers as they failed to support themselves.

When she looked up and met his eyes, he lightly pushed a strand of hair from her face, leaning forward slowly. Their faces were but an inch from each other's and she looked utterly terrified when a resounding CRASH made them both spring to their feet. Her dagger was in hand and a ball of fire in his as they made their way out of the library and down the hall. Standing with his back arched and fur on end Ser-Pounce-A-Lot was atop the bookcase at the end of the length. Below the case, with his tongue lolling out and his stub of a tail wagging joyfully was the huge, muscular form of a mabari hound. As they approached he turned and cocked his head to the side.

"Maku!" Namea gasped.

The dog barked with pure joy and bounded to her as though he were a playful lapdog rather than a war hound near the size of a pony. He stood on his hind legs, easily reaching the tiny woman's face and giving her a long lick.

Blinking she pushed him down and knelt to hug the beast around his thick neck. "What are you doing here!" The commander asked, as though he could answer.

"I can answer that…" A voice responded quietly. From the shadows stepped King Alistair. He wore a silk tunic and trousers instead of his usual golden armor, but he smiled and looked every inch the king to Anders, who watched his fireball intensify in strength as he glared with cold eyes at the man.

"Prove that you are truly the king and not an imposter." The mage growled.

"Anders. It is alright. Maku would trust no other who looked like Alistair unless it really was him." Her voice was strained, and the cold cloak she so often held about her was back. Anders mentally cursed. If this caused all of his progress with her to slip away, he would likely set the man ablaze.

"It is good that you are vigilant Ser Mage. I am glad that you are still by her side after how she rescued you from the templars." The king answered, his voice dripping scorn. Obviously the instant dislike was mutual between the two men, and Anders had a feeling he knew why.

"Your highness, what are you doing here." Namea asked haughtily.

"Well…I was just ah…returning your dog. You see he found his way to me in Denerim with a letter from Leliana instructing me to send him to you since I would likely know where you were. I told Seneschal Varel to let me know as soon as you returned to the keep so that I could bring him here."

"Denerim is days from here even by horseback, weeks on foot and we have only been back since yesterday. Your explanation does not match up." Anders hissed.

"All right, you got me, I was already here. I've been here since I got Maku back. I figure you never stay long enough at the keep for me to come and bring him…and if I were not with him he would wreak havoc here and you know it. He needs at least one person he knows or he treats everyone as an enemy."

She snorted. "You could have sent him with a soldier."

"I wanted to come myself and see you. To see how your quest is progressing, of course." He added hastily.

"Good, the seneschal can brief you in the morning and you can return to Denerim." She answered quickly. "He knows all there is to know. Thank you for returning my dog."

"Namea. Wait. I want to talk to you." The king's tone was soft and she turned with a frustrated sigh. "Please. I'm asking as your friend, not as the king. Just as me, Alistair."

"Very well. You can join Anders and me in the library." She answered.

"I would like to speak alone." The tall man protested.

"It's alright Commander. I shall leave you two to your devices. Should you need me, I will be waiting outside the library door." Anders answered. Obviously that was as far as he was willing to go from her without a royal decree.

"Very well." Alistair acquiesced.

The elven woman just nodded and led the two men back to the library, disappearing inside with the King, who shut the door behind him with a particularly cool look to the mage. "Yes, Alistair?"

The way she said his name was stiff and formal. He did not like it and he sighed, stepping closer to her, only for her to step back. Already this was not progressing well. Mentally, she had the upper hand with her cold demeanor. She deserved that much either way in his mind. "I am here with a personal request from Arl Eamon. He trusts no one enough to send it to you and no one but you to hear it. He said you can do with this information what you will."

Her brow rose. "A message so important he sent the king to deliver it. I see…You should know, we found that the talking darkspawn are the result of an entity known as the Architect and another he created known as the Mother."

"This message concerns Bann Teagan. You are aware that he was set to marry that woman, Kaitlin from Redcliff, correct?"

"Yes of course. She gave me one of my favourite swords. Why? What happened?"

"The Bann called off the engagement and has been acting very strangely….there is a woman who is with him often and it seems they are to be married now."

"Odd…but hardly important enough for the king to be sent." She replied.

"There is more. Connor, Eamon's son, came to visit fresh from his first year at the circle and he swears up and down that the woman is a demon. No other mages can fully support his claims however, but he begged that we tell you. He said that you would believe him when he said that he would know."

"He would know. The boy was possessed. Not many mages can say that they have been…and so that may afford him a special way of seeing things….why would a demon want to seduce Bann Teagan…unless they plan to have him take Arl Eamon's place…and as his wife they would hold that power…" She followed the tree upwards. "And since you have no children…the Arl of Redcliffe would be your next in line, wouldn't they…you believe this demon plans to put Teagan as a puppet on the throne?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I believe." He answered quietly. "You always were brilliant."

"Highness, I must deal with the Architect and Mother first…but I swear to you that the moment they are dead I will make my way to Redcliffe and investigate this matter personally." She agreed. Demons weren't usually interested in human politics, but she worried that perhaps this one was being controlled by someone, and that was a worse threat. Though Darkspawn were usually the chief interest of the Wardens, she had the distinctly unique position of also having been a party to the political machinations that had put Alistair on the throne. As such she was intimately involved with the workings of Ferelden's government. If there was a threat she was the highest in trust and she woul investigate it as herself, not necessarily as Commander of the Grey.

"Thank you Namea..and…there's something else."

"What is it?" She asked.

"I…wanted to apologize…for everything, for us. I…I miss you my love. More than you could ever know, I miss you." He smiled tenderly, placing a hand on her face. "Your hair has grown…it looks lovely…"

"No."

His eyes grew wide. "Wha-?"

"You will leave now Alistair. I will support you against this demon, but you cannot come here and claim that you were stupid. You cannot come here and now decide that I am worth fighting for when I was not before. Not when you are married now. Not when you broke me before. I am no fool _your highness." _Her voice dripped scorn and she glared at him openly, pointing to the door.

The former templar sighed and turned, leaving with his head bowed. The moment he was gone, she fell to her knees and her head was in her hands. Strong arms enfolded her and she looked up into Ander's eyes, trying to collect herself.

"Don't." The mage ordered. "I am your friend Namea. I am here for you and I will not allow you to harden yourself up against me right now. You need me…please…don't shut down….just…let it come." His voice softened in the last statements and she obeyed, leaning against him and crying as he held her tightly. His chest was smooth and warm beneath her, a steady heartbeat to keep time with her own as she allowed herself the pain she'd held back since the first moment she'd seen Alistair again months ago at vigil's keep. Somehow, it felt right. When the tears stopped she simply lay there, holding onto him tightly as he held her. The flickering of the dying fire cast their shadow far into the room and he skillfully wove his magic to keep the flames strong without having to get up and add a log from the stack.

She looked up at him, after a few hours, wondering why he would do such a thing for her after how unreachable she knew she had been. "Anders..." She murmured quietly. "Why are you doing this for me? I have not exactly been friendly to you...and I do not understand how you-."

He silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips. "This may not be the time to tell you...but I...found something. That night on your watch you dropped it as you walked away and I picked it up. I have...been reading your journal from the past." He sighed and saw her eyes widen. "I am sorry for breaching your privacy...but the person you were then...Where did she go?"

"Don't be sorry. I am glad that you had it, rather than it being lost as I feared." She replied, avoiding his question until his steady gaze told her he would not yield. "I...that person...she died, I think. The moment that she picked up a great sword from a corpse and ran towards the archdemon with it...I think she died." Looking down, the commander of the Grey studied herself. It was the same body she had always worn, the same voice she'd always spoken with, but not the same heart or mind.

He thought for a moment, and then shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "I don't think she is dead my Lady. I saw her, that night at camp...and again tonight. The woman who laughed with me until we were both teary eyed, told me stories about her companions...and cried on me...that woman is the woman from the journal I believe. Why does she not show herself during the light of day?"

Namea looked at their shadows, forming one solid shade of gray across the stone and the rug that lay over some of it. "During the light of day it is too easy for her to be used against me."

Pained darkness came over his eyes and he squeezed her tighter for one brief moment, resting his chin on her shoulder so that their cheeks touched. "I wouldn't let anyone do that."

The Commander slowly slid herself from his embrace, wanting and yet frightened by the comfort it offered, the friendship, and possibly...more? "I should go. We have a long day ahead." With that, she turned and walked towards the door, leaving Anders sitting there with his hand outstretched as though to stop her. At the last moment, she turned and looked at him with a small smile on her face. "Thank you...my friend."

He sat there for a long while after she was gone, looking down at his own shadow and alternately cursing himself and wondering if it had been alright. The warmth of her body lingered against him, as well as the slight scent of peppermint, leather, and elfroot that she always carried with her. Somehow, in those dead, dark hours after midnight, he had not only glimpsed the woman beneath the Commander but spoken to her as well, held her in his arms, and been considered her friend. "It's a start." The mage muttered, standing and running a hand through his shoulder-length blonde locks. "It's a start."

She stood alone before the seneschal; her eyes narrow as he spoke. "I see…the increased attacks can mean only one thing. The darkspawn are planning to attack Amaranthine."

The man nodded at her. "Yes Commander, it looks that way. We can have some troops there, but frankly our numbers are low at best and the city has her own capable men."

Namea sighed, then looked up. "I'll go then. The men there can rally behind me and my companions and I are like a small army in and of ourselves."

"It will be dangerous Commander. I do not recommend that you hit the front lines yourself…if we should lose you-"

"Then there are plenty of Orlesian wardens who can take over for me." She broke in. "For that matter there are also a few Ferelden Wardens running about who are every bit as capable as I am, not the least of whom is Elyse Cousland, our queen. I will defend the people of the city."

The elderly man did not look happy, but he sighed and finally agreed. "When will you be leaving?" He asked quietly, eyeing the large double doors behind her.

"At first light tomorrow. I want to beat the enemy forces by a good stretch so that I can rally the city and be certain the defenses are as stable as I can make them. Be sure that all civilians here are moved to the city or outlying farms immediately. I don't want to take a chance of them shooting for the keep itself. By noon tomorrow I want no one here who is not a soldier, no servants, no families, no merchants. Understood?" Her voice was calm, and she didn't realize it, but the seneschal smiled at her.

"As you say commander. I must state…you finally seem to have stepped into your role in earnest now. I can see the fire in your eyes that I expected from the tales of your heroics during the blight. If you survive this battle, you will be the finest Warden Commander in history…I know it." He nodded approvingly and clapped a withered hand on her shoulder.

The elf nodded and gave a small smile. "Thank you Varel. It has been an honour to work with you. I should get some things done before we leave."

She left then, her soft-soled boots as usual making absolutely no sound on the stone floors as she made her path up to the room she slept in. She looked up at a knock on her door and spoke. "Enter."

Nathaniel stepped in and nodded with a hesitant smile. "I heard we're leaving tomorrow…" He began.

Arl Howe's son was nervous, as he always was around the woman who'd killed his father. She had much reason to dislike him, and yet she did not. Rather she had been respectful to him since the moment they met, treating him the same as she treated everyone else they traveled with. She turned to him with her arms crossed and her face guarded as usual. "Indeed. There is no need to be hesitant Nathaniel, what is it."

"I...I wanted to thank you." He began. "It is possible that tomorrow you, I, and any of us shall perish. I know it is possible any day...but a giant battle is different...I just want you to know that I am grateful for everything you have done, Commander."

She smiled then. It was so odd to see that the Howe almost dropped dead of shock, or at least that was how he felt. "It is I who should thank you. You showed me that hatred is nothing. You have been an asset to the Wardens and to me from the day you joined. It is in part because of you that I have no fear of dying tomorrow, Ser Howe." She used his noble title, and this shocked him even more, since his titles had been stripped with the rest of his family. "We shall survive. Worry you not." With that she walked over and placed one tiny hand on his shoulder. In that moment there was a warmth to her. It was faint but there was no mistaking it and he realized how those who used to travel with her must have felt. As long as she was on the field with them, they would triumph.

He nodded, then turned and left, blinking a few times as he headed down the hallway. A warm Commander Namea? Surely something was amiss with the world.

After he left the tiny elven woman sighed and leaned against the door before walking to her desk and pulling a sheet of parchment from the drawer with a quill.

_Varel,_

_ Should I perish in the battle and you are reading this, I wish you to know that Nathaniel Howe is the new Arl of Amaranthine, as he always should have been. Never have I wished more that you were a warden, for if you were I would name you as my successor. Rather, I shall include a list of Wardens I know to be honourable and good from Ferelden. Study them and choose the one who is right for the position. Should you feel none are, choose someone from Orlais. I truly am honoured to have known you. _

_Namea Tabris – Commander of the Gray_

With that short note finished she nodded and folded it, using her commander's seal. Just as she set the sealed letter aside, a soft knock on her door made her turn. "Enter." She spoke again, leaning against the solid bulk of the desk.

"Ah, we really should stop meeting like this." Anders joked. "The others will begin to suspect an affair, and we wouldn't want that."

She loosened up a bit. "Of course not. What do you need?"

"Well, two things actually." He held out her journal, deliberately not looking at her as she took the worn book in her hands, holding it to her chest. "I finished it, so I figured I should return it." The mage noted. He looked over to where her log book lay on the desk in her room. "Is that volume two I spy?" He joked.

"Oh? Was it nearly as good as the novels you keep in your pack?" She asked, crooking a brow. At his expression she shrugged. "You think I didn't know? You sleep so soundly Ser Mage..Looking through your bags is no problem for me..." At his question she shook her head. "No, that's actually the logbook that Varel gave me for the Wardens. It is basically details of our jobs, finances, and current Wardens. I update it with all the progress we make against the blight, but it's all very official and boring..."

He coughed. "Well...eh...that is. Yes. That journal was actually just as good as any novel. A country on the brink of War, able to be stopped by one person. An evil force, further pulling everything apart at the edges, and of course a beautiful heroine and her group of battling bumblers traipsing all over trying to stop those things from happening."

"I see you saw my sketches of Leliana." She noted.

"Redheads have never been my favourite. I like dark hair." He prodded back, shrugging.

"Ah, so the sketch of Morrigan then. She really is quite striking."

Glaring, the mage stepped forward, grabbing her shoulders in his large hands and looking deeply into her eyes with his own. For a moment he managed an intimidating stare she'd never seen and the woman's eyes grew wide and her face slowly tinged pink. "I don't like skanky witches either." He growled lowly.

Namea tried to ignore the very physical reaction to his touch and his hoarse menacing voice over her. Luckily she succeeded as he suddenly realized what he was doing and pulled away, apologizing profusely. "It..." She cleared her throat. "Truly, you have no need to apologize. All men should be so...domineering. Perhaps that is why I have a slight attraction to Qunari males...their females are too timid for me."

Anders laughed aloud. "Now you're just making fun of me Commander."

"Perhaps." She leaned against the desk again, sighing mentally for the loss of his grip on her. "What was the other thing you wanted, my dress-wearing friend?"

"Well, my Knife-Eared barbarian of a commander, the second thing I wanted was to know exactly what our strategy for the morrow is." He answered, parrying her joke easily.

She sobered. "I suppose I don't know until we get there. I can play scenarios in my mind as much as I want...but the best laid plans of battle last only until the first blade is unsheathed."

Nodding, the blonde man shrugged. "Well either way. I believe in you." He winked then, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "Don't die on us, little snowflake. I still haven't finished my quest to melt you back into some semblance of a normal person." Abruptly he let go and waved behind him, walking out the door before she could speak.

The elf sat down hard on her bed, going over the past few moments in her mind and trying to stop her racing heart. "Dammit. No. I can't. Even if I do...it's just because..." her mind whirled, bringing up images of Anders and Alistair. "Because he looks so much like him...sounds so much like him...even acts like the blasted man. For all that they are mage and templar, king and commoner...those two are similar enough to be brothers."

She ran a hand through her black locks, letting them fall in disarray over her shoulders as she fell backwards onto the bed with one arm eagle spread and the other bent for her hand to cover her eyes. "Tomorrow. How will it turn out I wonder?" During moments like this, Namea wished that Wynne were around. The mage was wise, kind, and had been like a mother to the elven woman since their meeting at the chaotic Circle of Magi. Like any elder, she offered advice even when it was not wanted, but more than that she was always willing to hear questions, complaints, or even the rantings of those she looked after. When they came to her she sat silently, smiling a bit until they were done. She always seemed to know when they wanted her to say something afterwards and when they had just needed her to listen. "What would you tell me now my friend?" She asked the air above her bed. Maku felt her discontent it seemed and the huge dog jumped onto her bed and curled up at her side, a warm comforting bulk. "You're right boy...I can't bother to think of that when I should be sleeping. Tomorrow will be a long day."

The ramparts of Amaranthine loomed before her and Namea looked at them dispassionately, scouting for any sign of vulnerability or a way to use them. When she met with the constable she nodded. "Aiden, tell me how many men we have here please. I need to know how many archers, mages, and soldiers you have...and then how many more I can _persuade_ to join that are in the city itself."

He thought for a moment, counting to himself before answering. "Perhaps four units of competent archers, another full unit of recruits who can shoot that would probably be better off out of the fray. There are 6 patrols of melee fighters within the city and 2 stationed on the ramparts along with the two stationed out here with me. We have only 3 mages here in the army. I know that there are several fighters inside the gates and perhaps two or three good mages." He answered quietly.

"Right then. Nathaniel and Anders, you will be in charge of the men on the ramparts. Every single archer and mage needs to be up there hitting them with everything we've got before they get here so we can thin their numbers a bit." She commanded. The former of the two men agreed readily and Aiden gave the orders for all archers to gather around him.

Anders however was not having it. "Hell no. I go where you go." He growled, daring her to say any different but she just shrugged.

"Having a healer with me might not be so bad. I'll be in the thick of it and I'm no more eager to die than any other person." Once more she thought. "I want the two units of fighters stationed on the ramparts to guard the rampart entrances instead where they're most useful. Keep four of the city patrols in there, ready to come to me when they hear me call. I want at least one patrol of men at every single entrance to the city itself and I am going to set up traps there as well to thin any forces. Aiden, I want you to be in charge of the men here in front. Velanna, go up on the ramparts with Nathaniel and make those mages fight like hellcats for us. Sigrun you are going to patrol with one group in the city. Justice, you're patrolling with another and Oghren you'll be with a third, stay out of the tavern and I mean it."

Everyone just nodded, eyes wide at the commanding presence she'd just adopted. Oghren wasn't surprised in the least. This is exactly how she'd always been during big battles in the old days, including the one in Denerim. Amaranthine would be cake compared to that he thought.

"So that just leaves you, the mage, and the mutt on your lonesome I take it?" the dwarf asked with his bushy red brows furrowed.

"Yes. Together the three of us are as effective as two normal patrols of soldiers, I know it. I'm off to set traps and find some competent help. If you see them approaching, have Anders send a flare up into the air with magic. I'll see it and come back to give last minute orders." With that she was off, loping into the city with that wolf's pace she used so easily. Alone she rounded up any man and woman who could hold a weapon and intimidated any who were unwilling. She managed to find one mage for each patrol group, several decent archers, and some others who were willing to join different areas of defence. At every entry to the city she set a variety of traps from explosives to simple leg holds. When it was done she nodded, glad that no flare had been seen yet. Finally she was back at the entrance to the city and her words sent each group of fighters to their positions as she held hers in the very front. Her little group would peruse any band of darkspawn who got into the city and assist ANYWHERE they were needed.

Finally a shadow stretched along the horizon and she knew the hoarde was coming. There were many more of them than she ever expected and the battle was brutal already. An hour or so in she was running from the scene of one skirmish to the next when she heard Aiden yell her name and swerved her path to his side. "What is it?" she aked, calm though her face was flushed with exertion and blood splattered her liberally.

"There is a...messenger for you."

A hurlock emissary stepped forward and she readied her swords, until she noted his armour, similar to that worn by The first, and the other speaking darkspawn known as Disciples. "Warden Commander. I have a message from the Architect." He hissed in his gravelly voice.

"Speak quickly beast. I have no time for mind games." She answered with a growl.

"The mother's forces are split. This is not the only attack...in fact as we speak her others are nearing vigil's keep."

She cursed, violently. "Every man at vigil's keep is a trained soldier." She finally decided. "I am needed more here...but..." With her hands she signalled to Velanna and Nathaniel who stood watching on the ramparts. "You two, collect Oghren and Justice and get your asses back to the keep. Oghren is in charge and no complaints!"

They nodded as one and vanished from the ramparts as Velanna used her strange form of teleportation to get them to the others. It would not take them the entire way to vigil's keep, but she could make the distance shorter and cover it much faster. "You've stood this long, please stand longer." She prayed of the keep itself. With her upgrades...hopefully it would work. "You." She snarled at the Darkspawn and he turned to her again. "You're helping us. Stay here with the men who know you aren't an enemy and fight your brethren. If they see a single move of treachery from you, they won't hesitate to lop your head off, understood?"

The creature saluted her and she once more dashed into the city with Anders and Maku in tow. It was a good thing that the mage was more fit than most people gave them credit, she thought wryly, he certainly was doing a lot of running today.

The city rejoiced as the last of the darkspawn fled in defeat. There had been losses, but not nearly so heavy as had been expected. Namea knelt on the earthen ground with Aiden and his men, panting tiredly before approaching the darkspawn who had aided them. "Thank you. Now I must ask you, why did you come and warn us? What does the Architect want?" That strange darkspawn leader who had made the sentient ones worried her, but for now he had helped them, in a way.

Bloodshot eyes met hers with almost a touch of humanity in them and the hurlock spoke again. "The mother, she has many more soldiers and she will send them again and again. You must kill the mother or your keep and your city will both fall. Even now she has more soldiers on the way to replace those she has lost...but should she be killed..."

"Then they will lose their purpose and recede back underground." She finished for him. "Very well. Where can I find the mother?"

Crudely, with blood from a fallen enemy the emissary traced a path out on her map, ending it with a circle. "This is where you will find her Warden. Go now. You have no time to waste or the Mother shall win."

Though she was exhausted, and knew the others were as well, Namea nodded. "Sigrun, Anders, Maku...let's go."

Not the best team perhaps, but they were the ones she'd choose either way to have at her back in a pinch.


	4. Chapter 4: Journeys

**Author's Note: **Well here's chapter 4. I have a question for you guys. Do you feel that her progression from icy to non is moving naturally or does it feel forced to you? I know the way I write this story is choppy in terms of timeline. Sometimes weeks pass between passages and sometimes not. Let me know.

* * *

Chapter 4: Journeys 

Together they journeyed and as usual the Warden Commander felt more at home on the road than anywhere else. It had been her life for a while now. She remembered foggily her time in the Alienage, how it was living there, who she had known, the feeling of not being able to carry a weapon without risking death, or being talked down to by any humans who were there. It was odd. Nowadays, she felt strange if she didn't have her usual arsenal of weaponry on her, even stranger if those she surrounded herself with were not also armed. She wondered for a second if Shianni was alright back there, along with Soris and his mousy bride. More than anything, she thought of her father. This was not the life he would have chosen for her, the man had made that perfectly clear more than once. Her mother however...Namea had no doubt how Adaia would feel about the situation were she alive.

When they stopped, Namea sat against a tree in their camp and looked at the stars, hoping that someone from that old life was looking at them also.

"Go!" She heard Sigrun hiss at Anders, obviously thinking that the elf woman was out of earshot. Often people forgot that elves had keener senses naturally than humans or dwarves, and an assassin elf was double that from training alone. "It's fine, just go. I'm here for moral support!" The spunky little dwarf assured him.

The mage seemed hesitant, but he was better at keeping his voice down, so the commander could not make out exactly what he said, until finally he hissed. "Alright! Sheesh! There's no need to kick me in the shin like that...that hurt..."

"Well then stop being a runt-nug about it and go!" The legionnaire growled. "Or I'll do it for real next time...and it won't be your shin."

His grumbles carried to her even as he approached, footsteps sounding against the grass. Namea noted to herself that she needed to teach the mage how to walk more silently, lest their enemies hear him a mile away. "Eh...commander?" He asked.

"I have a name Anders, and you've more than earned the right to call me by it." She noted, patting the ground beside her with noticeably less hesitance than she'd once shown.

"Eh...thank you...Namea." The way he said her name made her look away with tinged cheeks and he cleared his throat. "The thing is...well I've seen you writing a new journal of our quests, but it seems to be just that...so I wanted to give you this..." He held out a package, carefully wrapped in paper.

Curiously, she took it from him and neatly unwrapped it, blinking in surprised confusion at the painstakingly crafted leather book. It was of much higher quality than her old journal, or the simple one she kept now for quests. Curiously, she looked up at him. "What's this?"

"Well...I noticed that you gave Valenna the one you found, although from what I saw you were debating on keeping it for yourself...This book is for you. It's for you to write whatever you wish in it, not just about our quests. Like your first journal, with your thoughts and feelings."

She looked at the book again. "Volume 2..." the tiny woman whispered. "Where did you even get this? It's beautiful..." Truly it was. The cover was black leather, fine and soft with deep blue-green embroidered into it in patterns of tribal flames around the corners, in the center, emblazoned in a slightly lighter shade of green was the silhouette of a dagger. She turned the book over in her hands and saw an N embroidered on the spine. The paper inside was strong, but delicate and thin. The volume held more pages than most its size. Perhaps the strangest thing however was the quill that had been laid across the top. Ornately carved and reflective, it was formed to look like a dagger itself with the tip forming the quill point out of beautiful teal sea glass. "I've never seen anything like this..."

He smiled. "It's the kind of book that mages write their spells in, and we use those quills sometimes too, although they're usually plainer. I saw that small magic shop in the last town we passed and picked this up there." The man explained. "Oh, and I also got you this." He held out a lovely glass bottle as well. Inside was ink of a pure dark green that was almost black and seemed to change colour from different angles. "It's called opal ink. It comes in lots of colours these days, but I hear-tell that your favourite is green."

She was speechless. "Anders..." The name came out slightly hoarse sounding, so she tried again and stood, setting the gifts gently aside. "I...thank you." Without thinking she flung her arms around his waist, letting her cheek rest lightly against the steady pounding of his heart. Tightly she held him to her, as though he would leave and never return at any moment.

For a few seconds he simply stood there, shocked, until he looked over and saw Sigrun making the motions, encouraging him to return the embrace. Realizing himself he did, letting his arms enfold the tiny elven woman. Though she'd always given off an air of frailty, he knew from prior experiences that she was not. Her form was solid and strong against him and through his robes and her armour he could still feel her warmth. Savouring the moment he held her tightly to him, closing his eyes and smiling slightly to Sigrun's endless silent amusement.

Maku found the entire spectacle very confusing, obviously, and bounded into it, barking and whimpering at them both until Namea pulled herself away and leaned down to pet him. Anders stood where he was, blinking and watching her interactions with the mabari. "You're welcome." He finally managed. "It is from Sigrun as well."

The commander nodded and walked over to the dwarven woman, tendering her a hug as well and smiling, which made the dwarf's eyes bug slightly. "Thank you Sigrun."

"You're welcome. You've done a lot for us. You should smile more, it looks good on you." As a member of the legion, she had seen hardened people before, even some much more so than this woman. It didn't mean she liked it however, and the brief glimpse of humanity in the commander was refreshing.

"I...shall try to remember that." Namea answered. Perhaps they were right and it was time to let the ice melt away. She did not know. Either way, they had a job to do before she could even consider her own issues. Excitedly she ran back to the journal and carefully removed a single sheet. The quill felt almost warm in her hand as she dipped it into the strange swirling ink and began to write.

_Shianni,_

_Greetings from your favourite absent cousin. I know I have been remiss in writing you, and I apologize. Things have been rough...but I feel like something is happening and the clouds are lifting. When last I saw you we reminisced and I told you all about my adventures around Ferelden, gathering treaties to combat the blight, and standing up to Loghain. That was just after the coronation of King Alistair, I believe. Wow, I am a horrible friend for not writing you in all this time. Allow me to make that up to you now. Expect this letter to be long my friend because I have even more to tell you, and things have only gotten stranger around us. When you get this, I may very well be dead, but I hope not..._

She wrote of everything that had transpired since Alistair's coronation, and did it honestly. Shianni was after all one of the people she knew who still saw her the same since she'd become a Grey Warden.

_After Alistair's coronation I couldn't stand to be in Ferelden. I told you then that he and I ended things mutually because he was taking the throne, but in all honesty I was heartbroken. Maybe I still am. I dream of him at night sometimes even now. I couldn't stand to be in Denerim even a second longer, so I took off with Zevran, Maku, and Leliana. Whilst in the free marches we met a mage named Fiona who swept Leli off of her dainty orlesian feet. She left us then to stay with her newfound lover, but she writes me still, though like with you I almost never answer. Zev and I went to Antiva and he showed me his home. That city is more fraught with intrigue than anywhere I've ever seen! It was so much fun though! We left Antiva and journeyed some more places, taking random jobs as merchant guards or guides and pretending we were ordinary Mercs. No one could tell I was a warden after all, not with the blight ended. I even touched up my tattoo so that I'd look Dalish and Zev and I had a grand time making up an entire past for ourselves. He knew I was hardening up even then I think, and kept me from it with all he could. We had just stopped over in the frostback mountains with the merchants we were guarding when I was summoned back to Denerim by Arl Eamon._

_ When we returned there I was told to report to Vigil's keep, and that I had been promoted to Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. I know, crazy right? Zev came with me to Soldier's Peak and on our way we dropped Maku off in Orlais with Leli because we had no idea whether or not we'd be able to bring him with us on our rushed ship passage. When we reached the peak Zev met one of our first new Wardens, given the rite by the Orlesian who'd been holding the commander post until I arrived. She's a dwarf, kind of reminds me of you actually red hair and all. I think Zev was intrigued because he stayed with her after that and I returned to the keep with my soldier-escort Mhairi. _

She told of the events the night she arrived in Vigil's keep, and everything that had transpired since. By the time she was finished, the note was pages long and she sighed. Poor Shianni for having to read it. Finally, she added a few final thoughts.

_Tell my father I'm well. I know this is not the life he wished for me...but...I think I can be happy like this. All he ever wanted was for me to be happy. I know he is not the letter reading type or I would write him directly. _

_Please tell Soris I forgive him for the rude welcome last time I was in the Alienage. I miss him and I'll see him soon. I hope his bride does not look like so much of a mouse anymore, perhaps he should be feeding her to fatten up those skinny hips eh? _

_Love to you all from the middle of nowhere! _

_Namea_

With the letter finished she folded it up and settled it into her pack with every intention of mailing it at the town they were due to pass tomorrow. She set the journal into her pack with utmost care, smiling fondly at the book and looking once more at the sky. A single red star shot across, overpowering all of the white specks that were normal stars and she closed her eyes. "I hope you're all well my friends..." She murmured, crossing her fingers for the people who could not be there with her.

ooo

_The dream was always the same, every single night that she had it. A tiny black-haired elven woman stood before a sea of fire and threw herself into it with her mouth opened to cry out. There was never any sound in the nightmare, but every time the ending was the same. A human man in brown and gold robes stared down at the body of the woman, burned and bloodied. He seemed lost, broken, angry and reckless. Held back by a pair of dwarves he looked as though he wanted to tear the world apart and suddenly he stole the dagger from her dead hand and slid it across his chest. His form blurred and shifted as the blood magic held him and demons appeared. The dwarf woman, in a display of quick thinking, knocked him over the head with the pommel of a sword and he crumpled to the ground, presumably unconscious. The demons however, did not disappear and the male dwarf drew a great sword, his bright red moustache seeming to bristle itself. _

_ The sea of fire rose up against them and towered as a huge mabari leapt past his companions and dove into it. This was when the only sound in the dream began, a cold low laughter that did not sound quite sane. _

Fiona woke, panting, and looked around. Not that nightmare again. "I thought the nightmares of evil were supposed to happen during a blight..." She growled to herself, running a hand through short, sweat soaked silver locks. "No wonder I have white hair at my age..."

"You told me you had white hair from the moment you were born..." The thickly accented orlesian voice next to her purred as a hand slid over her shoulder and Leliana's cheek rested against hers from behind her. "Did you lie to me?" The bard joked.

Her lover chuckled. "No. Of course not." She answered. The tall woman had still not told her lover about the dreams, there was nothing to tell. The elven woman looked familiar, but her face was never shown, and though Fiona had a suspicion of who it was, there was no reason to worry the other woman over a dream. Even so...how many elven women had Mabari hounds and tended to end up in trouble? "Have you heard from Namea recently?" She asked casually.

Leliana wasn't fooled, and she sat up quickly in their bed, looking over at her with dark blue eyes that were luckily hidden in the darkness. Fiona could never say no to those eyes. "Last I heard of her was months ago, when she wrote to tell me that she was made Warden Commander but Alistair wrote me very recently to let me know he'd delivered Maku safely to her. From his short letter I gathered that she was alright but their meeting did not go as he hoped. What are you probing for Fi?"

The dark-skinned woman sighed and sat up herself, a full five inches taller than her red-haired companion until she rested her head on the shorter woman's shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar feel of her. "I've been...having a dream. There's no doubt that the woman in the dream somewhat resembles Namea...though I didn't know her long...but her hair is longer, her armour is different..."

"Tell me about this dream. Perhaps it was sent by the maker to warn you. It wouldn't be the first time that the maker has taken an interest in Namea enough to send a vision..." The former chantry sister ordered.

"Well..." Fiona sighed. "In the dream she is with two men and a woman. One of the men is a mage; I think...the other is a Dwarf with red hair and a big sword. The woman is also a dwarf. There's a mabari with them too, and the elven woman is jumping into a sea of fire. She dies...and then the mage looks like he's doing blood magic and demons appear..."

"The mage summoned demons?" This troubled her. Namea did not particularly mind blood magic, so long as it was the mage's own blood they were using and not someone else's, but summoning demons was another thing. Leliana knew how the elf felt about demons.

"No, but the girl dwarf thinks he is, I think...and she knocks him out. The demons stay though, and for the most part demons that are summoned disappear after the mage who summoned them is dead, if they're properly controlled." Her silver hair fell over one violet eye and she blew it out of her face impatiently. "Then the mabari jumps into the sea of flames and I wake up..."

"It is not just a warden dream?"

"No. I haven't had any of those since right after I took my joining, and those always include darkspawn."

"Hmm...perhaps I shall write to the others I can get a hold of, and see if anyone else has had strange dreams..." Leliana insisted.

"Perhaps..." Fiona sighed. It was happening again. Once, long ago, she had dreamed that her friend Jowan sliced his hand open and attacked her. Back then she'd laughed at herself, and then a few weeks later after she went through the harrowing, it happened. That was back at the Ferelden tower of Magi, long before she'd ever moved to Orlais and become a Grey Warden. "I think we should go to Ferelden Leli...I...feel like I need to speak with enchanter Irving."

Rather than arguing, her sweet minstrel just nodded and laid a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Of course...but for now...while we're awake..." Her hands wandered and Fiona couldn't help but smile. Leliana's journey after the blight had taken her here to Orlais; to the woman she now lived with and loved. Every cloud had a silver lining.

ooo

Wynne's eyes were closed, and her hand lightly pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "You did...what to Enchanter Irving's door young man?" She questioned, looking down sternly at the apprentice before her. In truth, she was trying not to smile. It seemed like the kind of prank she herself would have pulled as a youngling, so very long ago.

"I...turned it into cheese Senior." The frightened boy answered with proper humility, fidgeting beneath the cool blue gaze of one of the tower's most famous senior mages. She had after all helped to end the blight, everyone knew that.

Light reflected on the blue and silver robes she always wore and she smiled and leaned close to him. "Well then...let us go fix that and I'll teach you how to do it without getting caught next time." She chuckled.

Childish eyes looked up at her. "Not...get caught?" He asked. "You mean I'm not in trouble?" Hope resounded in that voice.

"Oh you are...a LOT of trouble as far as anyone else knows...but between you and I, the look on Irving's face when he saw his newly swiss door would be a sight worth seeing. I may do it myself sometime, just for that...so let's just let everyone think that I'm a horrible mean old hag who punished you severely, yes?"

With that little issue taken care of, the old woman made her way with the spry step of someone half her age to her own quarters. It was odd that she'd spent so long back in the tower. Wynne was not one to remain there when adventure could be had elsewhere but Irving had insisted with mysterious and frustrating hints that he had seen something coming.

The ability to see small glimpses of the future was not a common one, even amoung mages, and Irving did not have the ability in any potent amount but he did have some. Enough in fact to have small visions here and there and when he had one, Wynne tended to heed it. Normally when the senior enchanter had such visions he told her, as his oldest and closest friend, but this time he did not. That gave her the suspicion that it had to do with something she would not like. Considering that only things mattering to her on a personal level would make him do this, she had only to believe that it was about one of the people she'd come to think of as her own children. Those comrades she'd travelled with for so long, fighting the blight. In her mind, she went over the letter she'd sent out recently, few of which were returned.

According to Leliana's letter all was well and she was currently in Orlais. Alistair had been excited to hear from her and invited her to dinner in the castle sometime, which she accepted. During the dinner he seemed fine, but he was the king. Bad things happened to kings quite often as his brother's fate showed. Zevran's short missive had said only that he was "keeping busy" and in "Good company." It was only when Alistair informed her that he was with a Gray Warden that she relaxed. That young man could get into trouble better than anyone she knew...well almost anyone. There was no way to contact Morrigan, not that Wynne would be particularly bothered by it. In almost every way that young lady's ideals were opposite from her own and the dark ritual that had spared Alistair's life was one thing that worried the old mage greatly. Sten was safe amoung his brothers and apparently his actions during the blight had brought him enough honour amoung the Qunari to choose a bride. That left only two people who had not written her back. Namea and Oghren. From what Alistair had said, they were together currently and though he assured Wynne they were okay, she wanted to hear from them to be certain. Last she'd seen the elven woman and the drunken dwarf they'd been in Amaranthine in strange company, even for them. An apostate mage that Wynne knew very well to be incredibly clever, talented, and mischievous. Those three traits seldom mixed well, but if anyone could keep Anders under control it was Namea. There had also been a young dwarf woman who seemed sweet, though her eyes held the haunted look that only wardens got that young. That last person she'd seen with them was Nathaniel Howe, the son of one of Ferelden's great traitors. Surely he would want to kill the woman who'd destroyed his family and killed his father. However he showed no signs of ill-will towards Namea when they'd been there speaking with Wynne, but it was possible either way that he had plans well hidden.

Now that the collegiate meetings were over, her mind was free to wander, and worry as it would. Unable to leave the tower, she simply waited, watching what was left of the templars pack their things and leave in trickles now that they were no longer needed to "Babysit" the mages. A few, like Greagior, had stayed on, changing their duties from protecting the world from mages to protecting mages from the world. Templars like that were rare however, most having been schooled to fear and dislike mages. Those had left first and now only the barest amount was left in the templar quarters. Perhaps it was a good thing, since those quarters were now needed to house students. After the blight, as the mages were declared free, more students poured in than ever as people flocked to learn how to control their natural gifts or have their children learn. No longer was it a source of fear and shame to be born with magic, Alistair had assured that it was beginning to be a source of pride and excitement. A gift, rather than a curse. Her journey had led her right back where it began, and though she was old and the power of the spirit that sustained her was growing weaker every day, Wynne knew it was far from over for her.

ooo

A believer, that was what they called fools who followed the chantry. The faithful, the pious, the saved. Morrigan scoffed at such terms. Better to call them what they were, sheep, fools, future victims. Not her victims of course, the witch of the wilds was beyond such petty concerns as others. It was never her intention to hurt people, unless it could give her something she wanted. Now, as she sat in the shadows of a large willow, her golden eyes travelled down to the perfect child sleeping in her arms. The girl was whole and complete, ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, and one soul of an old god. Morrigan sensed it even now just as she had from the moment of the baby's conception. The limits of her newborn body did not allow her daughter the ability to speak, but would that she could there was no doubt that she would have something wise to say. Such an old spirit peered from those golden-brown eyes, a perfect mix of her mother and the man who'd fathered her. There was no need to consider Alistair the babe's father, he was merely a tool, a means to create this perfect creature.

The thought of Alistair brought back memories from shorter ago than Morrigan cared to think. He was king now, placed on the throne by a woman he did not deserve. Of all the people in the world, there weren't many that this witch truly respected, and even fewer that she cared for on any level. Namea Tabris was on both lists, so much so that the baby had been named in her honour. Mea'na, or Mea for short suddenly woke, opening her eyes with none of the usual infant wonder, but instead a deep understanding of everything around her. Whether she had an old soul or not, the child was still beautiful and sweet; Morrigan loved her.

"Ah, we are awake I see little one." The mother purred, hugging the babe to her and resting her cheek against the soft fuzz of golden brown hair atop her head, another trait given by the current king's blood in her veins. "This is good. They are moving, we should be as well."

Her magic cloaked her from any who would see or sense her, but more importantly it allowed her to track the group before her without going close enough to be discovered. They were perhaps half a mile away from her at all times, unable to sense her when she could sense them perfectly. Standing she took the gnarled wooden staff leaning against the tree and once more slid it into the loop created for it on the back of her seemingly impractical robe. Carefully she slipped little Mea into a sort of sling she'd created, sliding it over her own head so that the babe rested comfortable and safe near her chest, able to hear and feel her heartbeat. There was no risk of the child crying to give them away. From the moment of her birth Mea had never once cried. The witch, now prepared, began the hunt, stalking as only one who had been raised in the Kokari wilds could. Not even a chasind man could match her in stealth and tracking; perhaps she even equalled a Dalish in her ability to be unseen amongst the trees and not leave a trail.

Her still-slender form wove through the skinniest of game trails and the long staff on her back did not get in her way as much as one would think. "Ah, they are going into a village today then. Shall we loop around and set up camp on the other side, or try to watch them amongst the people hmm?" She asked her child, though the infant could not speak to answer. "I suppose it has been a while..." Calming herself she removed the baby from the sling and set her in the grass, letting her clothing follow before standing naked and carefully concealing Mea in the hollow of the tree. Her magic shielded the child from notice and harm. Morrigan would not be gone long. With great concentration she focused on her power and let it gather around her. Her form blurred and she felt the tingling in every particle of her body that signalled change. In a few moments a sleek black cat, normal in every possible way, stood where the witch had and she opened her golden eyes to the world and trotted into the village.

It took some searching, but finally she found them. Namea stood with her back to Morrigan –the-cat, speaking with a courier. "Yes, the Alienage in Denerim. If you give it to the leader Valendrian it should reach the right place...thank you." She bowed and the courier, obviously in shock over the amount of gold she'd placed into his hand for the far delivery just nodded dumbly. It appeared that the elven woman was currently alone, as none of her companions were visible. Normally they did not stop for more than a few moments when they passed a village, only long enough to stock up on supplies really. It appeared this time however, that their leader was allowing them a brief respite. Looking more relaxed than Morrigan had seen her since she'd begun following them, Namea browsed the wares at various stalls in the weekend market. The weapons stall held her attention longest, as was typical but it was doubtful that anything in this little town could match the quality of the custom forged swords on her back. Those swords had slain an archdemon after all. It was still strange to see Namea with the one braid that went nearly halfway down her back. If not for Oghren the witch would not have recognized the elven woman the day she first saw them. With a fondness she seldom felt, Morrigan looked back on that day, a scant couple of weeks ago.

_ It was hot out as Morrigan stalked the wilds, grumbling to herself and Mea both. The dreams she'd been having demanded that she find her old friend but it was difficult finding a woman who never stayed in one place. Vigil's keep, the last known location of the current Warden Commander was laying in less rubble than one would expect after holding out a week against hoardes of darkspawn. From conversations she heard there and in amaranthine it was plain that the Warden had already left a few days ago, headed to an unknown location to meet with an unknown enemy. It was all very frustrating. Finally the old seneschal had said something sensible and unknowingly given the directly they'd headed away to the crow listening to him, a crow that in truth was the shape-shifted form of Morrigan. With that to go on, it wasn't difficult to catch up to them, though Namea was good at hiding a trail. She was good, but the woman was no Dalish or chasind. An elf bred in the city could not hope to fool an experienced tracker, or magic, though anyone else would never catch them. When the witch –disguised as a crow once more- had flown into the camp and landed atop one of the tents, it was only the unmistakeable form of Oghren that had made her realize this was the party she sought. With him were a strange mage and a dwarven girl. She had stayed to watch, and her efforts had been rewarded as a familiar mangy animal bounded back into camp, followed by Namea. From far away, with her new armour and longer hair it was hard to recognize the elf but Morrigan reasoned that there weren't many __elven women who travelled in such strange company. _

Since then she'd grown used to seeing her friend with this new look, and rather liked it actually. The practical style suited her much more than her former traditional elvish one. Namea strolled through the square, finally settling herself on a fence outside the local tavern, presumably to wait for her companions. She looked alright, to Morrigan, but she always did. _'Blast it...I wish I knew just what these dreams were warning me of...it would be much easier to watch her if I knew when this would happen or what I should be watching for...' _the witch thought to herself. If prophetic dreams were that easy to decipher however then the world would be a much different place. All she knew was that danger was coming, and she needed to be there lest it kill the one person in the world that Morrigan called Friend.

ooo

A cool breeze blew across her face as the Warden Commander perched on a fence outside of the village tavern. They were ahead of schedule after all, and Oghren swore he needed to restock his ale. She snorted at the thought. Sigrun had agreed for once, noting that they were running a bit low on some supplies, and how tired they all were. Finally Namea had relented and everyone ran off in their own directions upon reaching the village. She only hoped that they all stuck to the meeting time they'd agreed upon. As she sat there, the tiny woman's mind wandered, memories floating to the surface, both wanted and unwanted. Ironically, rather than any memories of Alistair, as she expected, it was memories of Zevran that popped into her mind now, and she smiled fondly.

_ The warmth of the fire seeped into her bones as the elven woman sat near it, alone for the moment. It wasn't often that the others weren't about, but it was the case now. Leliana had retired early for the evening and Namea was glad of it. The poor Orlesian bard had not been sleeping well since the onset of spring brought her allergies to the forefront. Sten and Oghren were in the furthest reaches of the clearing they'd chosen for camp, so far in fact that even with her elven senses Namea could neither see nor hear them as the dwarf taught the Qunari the art of being a berserker. She'd watched a few times, wondering if she could pick some things up, but the drunken man had spoken true when he said it was not a specialization she could learn. All of it went straight over her head. Sten however, seemed to have an aptitude for it, and even Alistair seemed fascinated enough to watch some nights, as he was now. _

_Wynne was also just barely out of earshot, though her silhouette was visible barely as she stood in deep conversation with the Circle emissary on topics that would bore any non-mage to tears. Those two seemed to enjoy each other's company, despite the age difference. For one brief moment Namea toyed with the idea of them having a forbidden romance, then laughed silently. Not likely. If anything Wynne's heart belonged first to Ferelden, second to Magic, and third to Enchanter Irving of the circle. _

_The witch of the wilds was beside her own fire, as usual separated from the group. Occasionally Namea spent the evenings there, but she knew that if she should interrupt now while Morrigan's face was buried in Flemeth's grimoire she'd likely end up turned into a toad or with singed hair at the very least. The dark woman was very intent on that old book and had been since the death of her mother. _

_For a moment she debated on going to speak with one of the other emissaries, then decided against it. The man from the dwarves was funny enough, in a gruff way, but he seemed to be asleep. The man sent by Eamon was a stick in the mud if she'd ever met one and the Dalish scout just looked at her with big sad green eyes that said he felt sorry for her. She was one of the lost to him, a city elf, one of those who'd forgotten what it was like to spin the tales of Arlathan. If there was one thing Namea couldn't stand, it was being pitied so blatantly. _

_That left her and the dog, who snored in his own spot beside her tent, at least until Zevran returned from checking the snares. She heard him coming long before his shadow settled over her, but when it did she turned and looked up to see him grinning triumphantly. "We eat fresh meat tonight!" The assassin declared, holding up a plump rabbit and an even plumper pheasant. The bag on his back bulged, so she assumed the other snares had also yielded game. "I chose the finest of the delicacies for us. No need for them to eat well when they are not even here for dinner, yes?" He joked, settling to sit beside her with a boneless grace she envied. For all that she was a woman, so often he made her feel like he was just so..._pretty_. _

"_Mmm...Good. I'm starving." She admitted, stealing the pheasant from his hand and beginning the tedious task of plucking it even as he took out his crow dagger and began skinning the rabbit. "Share?" _

"_Of course. Who would want just one of these fine animals when they could have some of each?" He laughed. They often did this in camp, splitting up each kill so that everyone got a taste of everything. _

_The pile of feathers beside her continued to grow and they talked of things that perhaps only they would appreciate. For all that their backgrounds were different, Namea and Zevran had much in common. A similarly macabre sense of humour was one thing, along with their common elven heritage. Both of them knew what it was to be looked down upon for what they were. Humans thought they were servants and even the Dalish had treated them as inferior when they'd gone to them for help. "You seem a bit worried lately." The dark-skinned man noted. "Tell me, what is it that has such sobriety resting in those pretty eyes of yours hmm?" _

_She chuckled. "You see through me you know. It's easy to fool the humans...they're so used to wearing everything on their sleeves that they expect it from others." She sighed, continuing her task even as her mind wandered, and she finally spoke. "It's just well...it feels like it's all starting to end. We have the last treaty and tomorrow we'll be in Redcliffe again. After that Eamon is going to call the landsmeet...then..."_

"_Does Alistair know yet what he is going to do? Eamon won't be dissuaded from making him king easily. That man is very keen on bloodlines." _

"_He insists he doesn't want to be king...but Zev he'd be brilliant at it...I have no doubt he'd make an amazing ruler for Ferelden." Her eyes darkened and she pulled particularly hard on one feather. _

_For a moment her companion said nothing, then he nodded. "I see. For what it is worth, I agree with you. I am not Ferelden myself, but your Alistair; he is a good man who would do what was best for his people. That causes some...problems for you though does it not? In Antiva, no one would look twice at an Elf and a Human together, but here it is not so." _

"_Aye. Men who sleep with elves are considered dirty and elves who sleep with humans are considered traitors to their own kind...relationships between the two are hard even for normal people...but the king...it would never work." She had finished with the body and now moved to one wing. _

_Zev nodded. "And you do realize that for all you've done, Eamon will likely leave it up to you to speak for Alistair at the landsmeet, in fact your voice may be the one who chooses Ferelden's next ruler...and if you put Alistair on the throne, it is most certainly a death sentence for your romance." _

"_Exactly. I almost wish that the landsmeet would not happen...but we need a united Ferelden in order for the troops we need to fight the darkspawn hoarde. When it comes to the last battle even the army I've gathered wouldn't suffice without it being a slaughter. The army needs to hold the darkspawn off long enough for us to reach the archdemon and kill it, but I would prefer if it did so without taking heavy losses." Her mind whirled. "What should I do Zev? I am not a patriot, I never have been...and yet meeting so many people and going so many places has given me an appreciation for Ferelden I never had. It's no longer just the place on the map where my Alienage is located...it's full of people." Faces flashed through her mind and she clenched her fist._

_Zevran's callused hand lightly captured that tightened fist and she looked up into his smiling brown eyes. "Duty and Love are not things most people would consider asking me about. I cannot make the decision for you my friend, it must be yours alone." _

_She sighed. "My duty to Ferelden demands that I put Alistair on the throne. Eamon is old and his claim is shaky at best, no better than Loghain's certainly. Teagan would never want the throne and his claim is even less than his brother's. The thirty years that Alistair has to rule before the taint takes him is still more than either of them would have. There is no way I could keep Loghain on the throne, not after what he's done..." _

"_And there are currently no other candidates. Maric had no other children? If he slept with one servant, perhaps there were others, no? Was he known to be a promiscuous man?" _

_She thought. "I'd guess he was almost as bad as you are when it comes to wenching...but seeing as I've never met him I don't know. I have no doubt there may be others out there but we have no time to find them. If they know their blood or wanted to be found, they'd have stepped forward before now with their own claims to the throne. Besides, even if we did find one, what proof could we give that they are Maric's child? Alistair has many things in his favour there..."_

"_He looks just like the dead king, no? He also has Eamon's word to hold for him, which holds much weight amoung those noble types." _

"_Yeah..." Her face took on a strained look and the Elf took the bird from her hands and set it aside with his rabbit, pulling her in to him for a close hug. It looked like she needed one. With her head on the deceptively strong assassin's chest she sighed even as the clank of metal signified Alistair's return. _

"_Should I be worried about this scenario?" The human asked with a suspicious look at Zevran. Since the moment that the elf had joined them he had been wary, always expecting a renewed assassination attempt...or more accurately Zevran thought he was suspecting that his love would be stolen from under him by the suave Antivan. _

_As much as that idea amused him, and Namea was more than worthy of such attention, the male elf had no desire to put her through something like that. For the hundredth time he wondered what it would have been like had they met before she and Alistair were already obviously smitten. It was true, they hadn't been together yet, he could have swooped in easily enough, but something in her eyes stopped him and he was glad for it. This was not a woman who deserved the kind of purely physical love that he could give and while she was amazing in her way, Namea was no Rinna. Zev was perfectly comfortable with the close friendship they'd developed instead. "You have no need to worry Alistair. The lady here was just swooning into my arms after telling me of your amazing nighttime prowess. It would seem that any attempt I could make at stealing her away would fail compared to your manly charms." _

_Namea giggled aloud. "Silly templar, if I were with Zev I'd feel terrible about myself...he's just so...pretty!" _

"_And I'm not?" Alistair mock pouted, taking her hand and pulling her up to hug her close, unmindful of the massive armour her wore. He often wondered if that metal bruised her when they hugged, but she assured him it did not, though her own armour was only leather. _

"_Oh no you're not." She agreed. "You are ruggedly handsome and utterly childish, and I love you for it..."_

Namea stopped the memory there, lest it travel into less pleasant territory. Though their conversation had been about Alistair, that memory did not give her pain. In fact it just made her miss Zev and his insight to the world. The two of them thought a like, but sometimes his foreign mind was able to see things in a way she could not, and for as long as she'd known him it has proved invaluable to her. Strangely however, the memory of his strong arms around her the few times she'd embraced him made her shiver. It was no secret that Zev was attractive, and no secret that he had found her as such when they'd first met. It had barely been weeks before he bluntly told her that she was his ideal woman, but he wouldn't pursue it because of Alistair.

After that conversation however, Namea had still noticed his eyes on her occasionally when he thought she could not tell. Eventually the looks had subsided however and she assumed his infatuation has melted into the friendship they shared.

Thinking of Zevran for some odd reason once more looped her mind into an image of Anders as he had looked that night at the keep with no shirt. In her mind the glow of the flames flickered across his toned flesh and she blushed just thinking about it- and all the things she could do with that flesh. "Gah...this is getting me nowhere!" She growled, holding her head in her hands.

"What exactly is getting you nowhere?" His swarthy voice asked her from where the mage stood with Sigrun before her.

The little dwarf giggled and Namea twitched. How had she not heard them approaching! "I...uh...I'm hungry." She muttered.

With little to no more ado they once more hit the road and Namea sighed, looking behind her without seeming to from where she walked with Maku at her side. Tomorrow they would be there, in the lair of the mother and she was a bit apprehensive. Everything she'd heard claimed that this broodmother was like no other. Not to mention there was no doubt that the group would be facing seemingly wave after wave of those disgusting "Children". Whatever manner of Darkspawn those were, they grossed the commander out.

As though sensing her nerves, Maku looked up at her and wagged his stubby tail. The mabari was easily large enough for her to ride, if she ever wanted to and sweet enough that he'd let her. Whatever she'd done to deserve such a loyal companion in him, she was grateful. "Let's...camp here." She finally said, turning to them. Sigrun and Anders both looked at her in confusion and she leaned down and pet Maku. "It's close...we'll be there before noon tomorrow and I for one am intending to rest before we face that bitch."

It wasn't often that the commander said something with such obvious vehemence, or used profanity. These things were all that Sigrun needed to realize that something was bothering the elven woman. When her tent was set up she made her way over to where Namea sat, gazing at the sunset as though it were her last. "It's odd...seeing the sky so often. I never realized such colours existed in nature." She revealed quietly, looking at the other woman's pale face.

"It looks like the sun is bleeding..." Came the whispered reply. It was true too. The sun seemed to lie in a pool of its own blood, red spreading out into the purple grey of the rest of the sky. The crimson continued to spread as the orange light of the sun faded, as though it were dying slowly.

The tone in her voice made Sigrun blink as she noticed the truth in the comparison. It was not a pleasant realization. "Are you...alright commander?"

Teal eyes turned on the Dwarf and finally it seemed she shook herself of whatever odd mood she was in, and simply nodded, looking much more normal as the flickering crimson of the bleeding son reflected on her face. "Yes. It is simply the anticipation of what I am sure will be a very hard day tomorrow." The elf admitted. "Please, rest up and enjoy yourself tonight Sigrun. I am going to explore the area a bit" With that, she stood and strode into the darkness of the forest around them with her Mabari at her side. Anders joined the dwarf as she watched the commander leave and scratched his head.

"Where's she going off to?" he asked the legionnaire scout.

"I don't know. She said exploring...but she was acting a bit odd...maybe it was just nerves though. Either way, the dog is with her so she'll be fine."

"I guess...if she's not back in an hour I'm following." He decided, lighting the fire before the sun disappeared completely into night.


	5. Chapter 5: Risks worth taking

**Author's Notes: **Chapter 5! How do you feel? Do you have any guesses as to what's going to happen? Does the plotline coming to light feel authentic to the Dragon Age universe?

* * *

Chapter 5: Risks worth taking

Morning dawned with the uncomfortable sensation of the rising sun in Anders' eyes and he looked up suddenly. The commander! He'd fallen asleep next to the fire whilst waiting for her to return. The mage needn't have worried however as he finally spotted her before him, a single silhouette haloed by the rising sun. It was obvious that she'd taken all night watch, rather than wake either of them for their turns. With the blazing orange as her backdrop he watched her stretch and first slowly, then faster begin working out her muscles with forms using those two deadly longswords she wielded. When there were no opponents he was able to truly watch the way she fought, and smiled. It was grace and death incarnate, almost like a dance – a dance where the partner died anyway. For one brief moment she was in the air, alight as though she'd sprouted wings and her blades were raised before her to strike down at an invisible foe. It was almost as though time stopped as the sun gave its last rising flash before becoming fully visible. In that moment the grey of her armour became a deep orange and her face was no longer visible. When she landed, the moment ended and she wiped some sweat from her brow before sheathing the blades and turning towards the camp. Quickly Anders closed his eyes, feigning sleep. If she knew he'd been watching her it was likely he'd be that dead dance partner next.

She first checked the supplies, and then stoked the fire quietly, leaving no traces before finally taking a seat beside his seemingly slumbering form. Her hair was down, and hung nearly to her waist as she pulled it over one shoulder, sitting quietly to wait for him to awaken.

Her small, callused hand upon his face nearly made him jump from his skin, but by some miracle he remained still and continue to feign sleep. Lightly she stroked the line of his jaw, tucking a strand of errant blonde hair behind his pierced ear. His skin prickled at her touch and it was all he could do to remain laying there, rather than taking her in his arms. Too soon she lifted her hand away and he heard her stand and trot to wake Maku from where he lay. Together the elf and Mabari roused the two sleepers, calling their names. He feigned reluctance to wake, when in truth he did not need to. Her hand on his face had given him an awakening jolt unlike any other.

When he sat up she stood beyond their immediate campsite with her eyes on the road. "If I'm not mistaken...you're worried." The mage spoke quietly, standing and wrapping his arms around himself as he stepped towards her.

The commander turned and gave a shrug, looking once more at the path ahead of them. "I have reason to be. Regardless of what you may think I have no urge to die just yet."

He chuckled and stood close behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder and resting his chin atop her head in a gesture of familiarity he hoped she would not kill him for. She did stiffen, but within a few seconds the elven woman relaxed slightly. That was a good sign. "I know you don't want to die. Remember, I read your journal."

Sighing, the tiny woman turned to face him, her eyes growing wide at the realization of just how _close_ he was to her at the moment. A strand of his hair fell over one shoulder and she couldn't help but admire the rare sight of Anders with his hair down. Long hair on men was a weakness of hers she knew. She had to stand on tip-toe to lightly brush the strand aside and she smiled shyly up at him, fingering the golden earring he wore, a gift from her. "You actually wear this?" As though realizing what she was doing, the assassin backed up a pace, taking her hand from his shoulder, though his remained on hers.

"Hmm?" The mage made as though to look at his own ear before shrugging. "I like it. Besides, no man refuses a gift from a lovely woman..."

Sigrun's voice interrupted them and she pulled away completely to his disappointment, turning to the dwarf. "Ready?"

"Yup. My tent is packed and Anders never even set his up last night." She answered, standing with her pack over one shoulder.

"Let's go then...before I lose my nerve and turn us around." Namea replied, reaching past Anders for her bag. He caught her wrist suddenly, gazing down at her.

For a moment he just stared down at her, then realizing he had no idea what to say, the mage released her and gathered his own pack before they set off.

ooo

_ It was over! After killing first the architect after his disgusting offer they had proceeded directly to the Mother's lair. The battle was difficult, but here was Namea, jumping from the ground with her swords drawn and first slashing the mother's neck before shoving her blade to the hilt in that vile creature's mouth. The mother drooped, her upper body laying limp over the gigantic mass of her lower form. Indeed, it was over and Namea turned to walk back to her team. A sound caught her attention and she spun in place, realizing her weapons were still buried in the flesh of the mother. One remaining childer had the chance it needed and tackled her to the ground, its long blade-like leg stabbing into her over and over until Anders was there and jolts of electricity shot through it repeatedly until it fell limp and dead beside the bloody form of the Warden Commander. "No No...no!" He cried out. His hands went over her but no power came to him and he cursed. Every last bit of mana he had was gone, used in that electric bolt. From somewhere deep within him he found more and dredged it to the surface, ignoring the rising headache that signalled he was using more power than he had. Healing spell after healing spell was summoned until suddenly, oblivion overtook him. _

_ Where she stood, alone and watching Sigrun trembled, but her resolve was hardened by a bark from Maku. They needed to get out of here, and quickly! She pulled the mage up with all of the strength given to her by the stone and draped him over the strong dog's back, using strips of cloth from his robes to bind him in place. The tiny elven woman however seemed to weigh next to nothing in Sigrun's arms and the dwarf carried her slowly back towards the camp they'd chosen. _

_ A fire already roared and the dwarf stopped dead as a tall figure rose from sitting before it and stepped forward. "'Twould appear I am too late..." A smooth female voice spoke. Something about the way she said those words struck the former legionnaire as suspicious, but she held her place. The figure was slender, but seemed to hold something in its arms, unidentifiable in the shadows."My but you are a defensive one. Worry not, I am Morrigan and you are holding the near-dead body of someone I hold very dear." _

_ That was it. The way the woman spoke was indeed the way Namea had written of Morrigan in her journal. "Take off your hood." The dwarf commanded, hoping that the commander was a decent enough artist to have gotten her sketch of the witch correct. _

_ With a chuckle, the mysterious visitor complied and her face as shaded by the firelight was close enough to the drawing that Sigrun could believe they were the same person. "Now, if you please set them before me and go about setting up the tents." First she looked Anders over, then dismissed him. "The man has nothing more than a case of exhaustion. He will wake in time with a headache but none the worse for wear." Then she turned to Namea, and from the corner of her eye Sigrun swore she saw the witch looked concerned. _

_ When the tents were set up she made her way back to the dark-haired woman's side, marvelling at how much mana she must have to be still healing. "How are you doing that...Anders can't use that much power and stand up..." _

_ From the corner of her eye, Morrigan studied the dwarven woman. "Anders does not use blood magic, and he does not have a greater source of power...I do." _

_ It was only then that the object held in the witch's arms was revealed to be a baby, beautiful and inquisitive looking. "That's-..." Sigrun did not finish the sentence, instead simply watching, in case it would anger the woman that she knew of her dark ritual. "Will she be okay?" _

_ "Help me move her into the tent." Dark circles lined the beautiful witch's eyes and Sigrun realized that she was indeed using every power at her disposal to try and save the commander. Blood mage or not, this was someone that Namea trusted, and that made all the difference. When the elf was laying on a bedroll within the tent, Morrigan sighed and brought one hand up to rub her temple. "I have done all I can for now. Even with the power of blood and my external energy source, I am nearing exhaustion myself. I must rest. Guard this tent from that mage when he awakens. I have no doubt he will attempt to enter it and perhaps kill himself trying to heal her. While I would have no problem were he to die...I am certain that our friend would not be happy." _

_ The curious dwarf wanted to ask her things, but it was obviously a dismissal and she left, watching the witch curl up with her head on the Commander's shoulder and the amazingly calm baby between them before the tent flap closed. _

_ She took the watch that night and when the sun began to rise, so did Anders. "Bleeding Andraste's knickers!" He cursed. "My head feels like it's about to explode..." Then suddenly. "Namea!" He stood, rushing towards the tent, only to be intercepted by Morrigan in all her glory. The babe was absent, apparently still sleeping beside the injured commander, and in the daylight there was no other way to describe her but stunning. _

_ Her robe, little more than a deep red piece of cloth draped and tied strategically showed more than it hid and the bottom of it lay low on her hips. Shoulder length dark hair was up in a bun and her golden eyes focused icily on the man. "I will assume that standing has your head feeling even worse. I shall make you some tea to help with that, though 'twas your own foolishness that caused it. "_

_ "Who are-...Morrigan?" He asked suddenly. "Where is Namea? Let me see her now, I demand it!" _

_ "You shall not." The intimidating woman answered. "'Twould not be in your best interest to challenge me on this boy. You are still exhausted and I can defeat a circle mage like yourself on any given day. Now, sit by the fire like a good child and let the warden rest." _

ooo

That was how it began. Morrigan had been with them nearly a week now, with the group never moving from that one secluded camping spot as they waited patiently for any sign. She would say nothing of Namea's condition, only replying with "She is not dead yet." Every time she was asked. Anders was growing rather tired of that statement, but there truly was no way into the tent. Both Morrigan and Sigrun kept him from it, and the former had told him explicitly not to use magic or it was likely he would die. Apparently he'd tapped himself far beyond reserves. The witch called it "Burning his channels". Though his mana was back she said the paths by which magic travelled through his body were raw and tender, unable to contain even the slightest trickle of power until they "healed" and that took time. Unfortunately, he knew she was right. Occasionally apprentices at the tower overextended themselves thus and ended up dead he knew. So he sat and waited, keeping watch every night with the two women, for Morrigan also took her share of the camp duties along with spending hours in the tent with Namea each day. He did not know what she was doing, but the witch always emerged exhausted, and yet did not complain when her turn to take watch came, or when it was her night to cook. Footsteps approaching made him look up, only to see the face of the wilds woman herself. "We need to talk, you and I."

He blinked. "We do?" A sudden suspicion took him over and he tilted his head. "About what?" As she looked at him Namea's voice flashed in his head.

_"I think you and Morrigan would get along...you have some very similar ideas about magic and the circle...Ideas I happen to share." _He shook the voice away and once more looked up at the near-stranger who had spent so much time with the Commander in the past.

"It is likely that Namea will awaken tomorrow...She has healed quite well I believe, and 'twas you who did the healing."

"Wait what?" He began. "But I-"

"You are going to tell her that." Morrigan overrode him easily in her smooth voice. "She is never to know that I was here, do you understand?" A sort of pain lingered in the woman's eyes and he nodded slowly.

"But why...don't you want to see her again?" He asked.

"Of course I do." She snapped. "I have been following your group for some time...in truth it is because I had dreamed that she would die and I wanted to stop that from happening. I believe I have fulfilled my purpose here and I shall be leaving with my child to a place where none can follow."

"I don't understand...if you were following us why did you never join us and help? How did you stay undetected? Why can't she know you were here?" Questions overflowed and he glared at her with an unwavering brown gaze that met her gold one easily.

"Full of questions...like someone else I know. When I first saw you, I was certain you would annoy me as much as that fool Alistair. You two look quite a bit a like you know...you also sound similar. Luckily, 'twould seem that you share many of his better traits and few of his flaws. Do not develop any of them...because if I find out that you have hurt her the way he did...well you are no king. Your death will not cause much strife."

"Hurt her? How-...why would I...answer my questions woman!" Came the frustrated growl from one apostate to another.

"Oh very well. The reasons I never joined you and why she cannot know I was here are one and the same. Let us simply say that I told her she would never see me again, and I meant it. If she knew I was here she would go after me and abandon her duty to do so. Promise me you will not tell her I was here."

Finally, he relented. "Fine. She'll never know...did you tell Sigrun?"

"The dwarf has a fair and logical mind. She understands my need for secrecy. Yes, I have informed her. As for how I went undetected 'twas simply a mixture of old earth magic and simple woods craft. Namea is a good tracker, true, but one who grew up behind stone walls cannot best one who grew up in the wilds as I did."

Anders nodded. "So when are you leaving?"

"Now in fact. Travelling by night is my preference. Do you have any other questions before I leave?" She seemed to know that something was on his mind.

"The baby...is that Alistair's child, the one with the soul of an old gold?" He asked quietly, finally meeting her eyes.

"Yes. She is...I would not figure Namea to have told you something like this. From what I have seen she is much changed from the woman I knew...but perhaps she is still trusting at times."

He shook his head. "She didn't tell me. I read her journal of your past journeys...that is how I recognized you; there is a sketch of you in it."

"Ah, that book she always wrote in. I recall it well..." Her face darkened suddenly and she turned. When she once more faced him he could have sworn she was holding back tears. "Take care of her, Anders. I...She means more to me than the world...the only true friend I've ever had...and a sister to my heart. Seeing what that fool did to her has been painful for me. Bring her smile back."

He did not know the meaning of those words and she began to leave, draping her cloak over her shoulders and picking up the baby from where she lay in Sigrun's arms by the fire. The two women exchanged some words and Morrigan had almost vanished when Anders finally called out to her. "What's the child's name?" He asked suddenly, realizing he'd not heard it.

Though she was a witch, the woman's smile was quite lovely, almost tender as she looked down at her baby and spoke, almost too quietly for him to hear. "I call her Mae'na."

ooo

Her eyes opened slowly and her mind tried to recollect where she was. For a moment something flashed into her head, but she dismissed it as impossible.

_ The warmth of a living form beside her had woken her and though she was too weak even to open her eyes she could hear a steady breathing and feel someone's protective arm around her and hear quiet murmuring. "My friend...my sister...I am sorry that my arrival was late...please, do not leave me. You once swore to me that you would always be there for me...please do not break that promise..." The voice was quiet, familiar and though lacking the edge it so often had, Namea knew it was Morrigan's. "I have done all I can this night and I am nearly to the breaking point. Tomorrow...live until tomorrow. I will continue then..." It sounded as though the voice was close to sleep and the warm figure yawned. "Tomorrow...my friend..." _

In sleep she had dreamed about Morrigan. That was not so uncommon in truth. Often the elf wondered what had become of her dark-hearted friend, and prayed that she was alive and well somewhere. Now however, Namea could not even think of that or rather she could think of nothing once the pain of her entire body kicked in. Breathing deeply she commanded herself to think and finally got the image of the childer as it appeared and tackled her to the hard stone. The beast had slashed her with its bladed legs, stabbing into her over and over while its fangs tried to find hold on her neck and shoulders. Something had forced it away from her and she vaguely registered a voice calling out her name. That was it. From then on it was only blackness and vague fevered dreams that seemed to all involved Morrigan.

Finally Namea had the strength to keep her eyes open. She was in a tent, completely unclothed and lying under a thick blanket. Her body ached but from what her weak probing could tell there were no more open wounds. She did however feel the hard flesh of newly formed scars across her torso. Deciding that it was safe to move as they were obviously past the scab stage and in no danger of ripping open, she tried to sit up, and failed.

After what seemed an eternity, she was on her feet with the thick blanket wrapped around her like a make-shift dress, tucked in the front The tent flap seemed miles away, but with slow hobbling steps she made it there and stepped out into the warm light of midday. It felt good to have the sun on her pale face and she closed her eyes, embracing its warmth.

Across the camp Anders sat, staring into the woods as he waited for Namea to awaken. Every few moments he glanced back at the tent hopefully, only to remain disappointed until now. There she was, alive as the witch has promised. Namea stood, albeit with obvious instability, and looked to the sky with her eyes closed. He jumped from the rock he'd perched on and strode quickly to her side, assessing the damage as he went. What he could see of her body was a patchwork of fading bruises and the pink of new scars marred the ivory tone of her skin. It was she however, and he drank her in as though it had been years. Finally she snapped from her reverie and looked at him, tilting her head. He smiled with a tenderness that few ever saw and pulled her to him, blanket and all in a gentle, but fierce hug. "You're alive."

"Y-yes?" She replied. "I assumed you're the reason why..."

"I...yes...I healed you." The lie felt uncomfortable, but Morrigan had made her wishes clear. "I am just glad to see you awake. We were worried."

She gave herself the luxury of leaning into him, letting her cheek remain against his heartbeat for a little longer as she asked "Sigrun and Maku?"

"They're fine. Out gathering firewood but perfectly fine. Sigrun rigged up a harness for that beast of yours so he could help with the chores." He answered.

"I'm glad...and Anders?" Her tone became quiet, shy.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for saving me..."

He smiled down at the top of her head before reluctantly loosening his grip on her to hold her at arm's length. "Your weapons weren't claimed from the body of the mother I'm afraid..."

"That's alright. I'll custom order some from Wade when we get back to the keep, and I have my bow until then. How long was I out?" The tiny woman asked.

"It's been a week today. Do you think you'll be travel-ready tomorrow?" Obviously the mage was worried about her, but she brushed the concern off as usual.

"I'll be fine Anders." The sound of happy barking met her ears and she turned, still with her hands on the mage's chest and his lightly holding her.

Almost as though he knew she was injured the Mabari did not tackle his owner for once and instead sat at her feet with his head easily reaching her chest. If dogs could smile, he was doing so, very happy to see his person on her feet once more.

Sigrun appeared behind him, lugging what appeared to be a cloth harness with grumbles. "Stupid mutt, you broke it! What made you run back so-...you're awake!" She dropped the ends of the harness and trotted over, standing beside the Mabari. "How do you feel?"

"Like every knight in Redcliffe just decided to punch me at once." The tiny woman admitted. "I can barely stand right now, but it's already feeling better, since I know you guys are okay. I say we start home tomorrow...I am eager for a bed and some babying before I set out for Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe! Don't they ever let you rest?" Anders growled, his grip tightening again for one brief moment until he noticed her wince in pain and softened it hurriedly.

She shook her head. "There's an issue there. It looks like we may have someone with ambitions to the throne...I have to go. I'm the only one that the king trusts enough to see what's going on, so I'll rest at the keep for a couple of days and then I'm off again."

"We're off." Anders affirmed. "I'm going with you. You'll need a mage and you know it. Your hack and slash way of handling things always puts you in dangerous situations."

Sigrun could have sworn she saw Namea blush, and she grinned. This was a trip she _had_ to see. "Me too. Keeps the cultural diversity high and all that. Besides, you made us wardens; you don't think we're going to let our commander go without a proper escort, do you?"

Teal eyes widened, then the woman nodded, feeling a bit touched. "Very well. You two can escort me. I'd rather not travel alone that far if I have to anyway. Maku will be going with us, of course."

The Mabari barked happily and it was decided. Namea leaned against Anders once more, unable to stand any longer and he picked her up in his arms. "Rest." The mage ordered. "I don't know if you'll be travel fit tomorrow..." His tone was worried.

"Heal me some tonight? I want to be able to leave." She begged, looking up at him and feeling quite vulnerable as he held her several feet off the ground. Her arms wrapped around his neck to steady herself and she looked up at him with her best sad face.

Unable to hold out against the devious pouting he sighed. "Fine. But no watch tonight or tomorrow at least...maybe after that too." Inside the tent he gently placed her on the bedroll, ignoring the very male impulses coming over him at the image of her lying beneath him wearing only that blanket. His face was hot as he knelt beside her, placing his hands on her stomach with only the wool of the blanket separating his skin from hers.

She watched him wordlessly declining the urge to pull him down against her, regardless of bruises. It would be worth it. Instead she noted the tinge of red on his cheeks. "Are you alright Anders? Your face is rather red..." the warden chuckled slyly.

He nodded. "I just...it's warm in here...is all..."

For a moment she hesitated, then her tiny hands reached up and she pulled his face down close to hers, looking deep into his eyes for a moment. His eyes were wide and shocked as she closed the distance between them, ending with her head on his shoulder and her arms around his neck. Fear had stopped her from doing as she truly wanted, fear and the worry that perhaps her attraction to him was not his own doing.

His hands slid beneath her, resting against her back as he pulled her up and held her against him with an inaudible sigh. For a moment he forgot that she was naked and his hands rested on her bare back, he forgot that she was the warden commander; he forgot that she had once loved the king. All he knew for that one moment was that she was a person, a friend, and in his mind much more. They sat like that, in a silent embrace until darkness fell and Anders realized she was asleep. With a smile he gently lowered her back to the bedroll and pulled the blanket around her. "My warden...if only you knew..." he whispered, standing with a sad smile and opening the tent-flap to meet Sigrun's roguish grin.

In the tent, she woke as he set her down, hearing his words and when he left, Namea sighed, gripping the fabric of her blanket. "If only I did know...is it you that I find myself wanting...or is it still him...I can't let you be a replacement for Alistair my friend..." Her words were a whisper and she lay silently until Maku nudged his way into the tent and curled up against her. She rolled to her side and draped one arm over the huge mabari, feeling slightly better already just by his presence. "You're a good dog Maku. I bet you'd know what to tell me...too bad Mabari are smart enough not to speak."


	6. Chapter 6: Like a living weapon

**Author's note: **Whew, chapter 6! I hope you all enjoy it. I've got some slight grammar edits coming in newer releases but the biggest changes to the past two chapters were my attempts to tone down the Mary-sue-ishness of Namea. I didn't want it to seem like she was perfect so I made sure to point out more of her flaws.

* * *

Chapter 6: Like a living weapon

Though she was not a particularly loyal Andrastan Namea thanked the maker that the journey home had been uneventful. As they stepped into courtyard of Vigil's keep, soldiers turned and stared. It was with a twinge of regret that the Warden commander noted the obvious battle scars upon the keep. Gathering her dignity she walked slowly towards the main building, stopping just long enough to notify Herren that she'd have a weapon order for Wade when her business was over with. He sighed in exasperation, but nonetheless agreed. She could tell he was hoping it was a simple order. When they reached the doors as usual the pretty young private greeted them, saluting. Secretly, Namea was glad to see the woman was alright, she rather liked her. They'd only gotten halfway up the stairs when a loud whoop met their ears and Oghren trotted down, apparently sober for once, and slapped the elven woman on the back hard enough to stagger her. "I knew ya'd make it!" He cheered. "I told that nug licker that nothin' could take our commander away from us just yet!"

"I'm glad you're in one piece Oghren." She answered. "How did the keep fare?"

"Best ya let the boss explain, you know I'm no good at numbers and such." He answered, brushing a hand through his red whiskers.

"You'd have to be able to count higher than 1 to be good with numbers." Sigrun muttered, glaring at Oghren in her usual annoyed manner.

It was good to hear the usual banter of their party again and Namea almost smiled as she made her way forward to where the Seneschal stood...except that Varel was not there. Where he usually stood was Nathaniel Howe. "Hey Oghren, where **is** Varel?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Varel...he..." The dwarf began. Nathaniel interrupted, looking down sadly.

"The seneschal perished in the attack Commander. I...I am sorry. I've been handling things here since then...I hope I have not overstepped my boundaries..."

Her face fell, but only for a moment before she clapped Howe on the shoulder. "Not at all. You seem to have done a commendable job. In fact, if you're not opposed I would like you to replace him as Seneschal, and Arl of Amaranthine."

His mouth worked furiously and his eyes bugged. "Me? You want me to..."

"Your family's titles are yours again. I cannot give you back the land, as it was by royal decree but I am no good at governing normal folks. The wardens respect me for my fighting skills and I can lead them but the common people just see an elf, or worse a dangerous soldier. I think you'll do well taking care of them." The decision was easy to make, and she had made it before leaving in fact. It had never even occurred to her that Varel could perish in the battle, the tough man had always seemed so constant.

The new seneschal seemed speechless and she nodded respectfully at him, turning to where Justice and Velanna stood in their usual spaces. "Good to see you both are still around as well." She spoke.

As usual, the elven mage simply gave her a look that said quite clearly that "of course she was alright." That woman did not like her very much even now, but she didn't particularly like anyone Namea supposed. Justice gave a deep bow, but his expression was troubled, or as troubled as the expression of a corpse could be. He really was beginning to reek. "If I may have a word, my lady?" He asked quietly.

"Of course Justice." She walked to him and looked up. "Yes?"

"Well...you defeated the culprit behind Kristoff's death, did you not?" He asked quietly.

The warden commander tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of decomposition lingering on him and nodded. "Aye. The mother and the architect are both dead. This means I suppose that your purpose has been fulfilled..." Suddenly it struck her. Justice wanted to leave. The thought left a lump in her throat but she fought it down with a sigh. He had grown to be someone she counted on, a staunch ally that in a strange way reminded her of Sten. "You want to return to the Fade, don't you?"

"Indeed...but I do not know how..." He answered. "I wish...I wish for you to come with me somewhere outside of the keep and burn this body I am in. Perhaps that will release my spirit and at the least, it will allow you to return Kristoff's ashes to his wife."

She nodded. It was the least she could do for the spirit. "As you say Justice. Tomorrow, this I swear, we shall go and see if your spirit can be freed in that manner."

"I thank you."

The Warden commander nodded and turned to where the others stood before finally speaking aloud. "I have to travel to Redcliffe in a few days time. Justice is going to return to the fade and Nathaniel is staying here as the new Seneschal and Arl of the keep. You are all Grey wardens, each of you and you are free to travel as you will, upholding the duties of a Warden and fighting darkspawn where you see them. The mother is dead and you have been very helpful to me. I declare you each captains of the order, holding authority within our ranks for your deeds." She bowed to the group, noting the shocked reactions of those who had not been with them during the fight with the mother. "What will you all do?"

Oddly, it was the elven mage who spoke first. "I...I would request to travel...and find recruits for the wardens amongst the Dalish. Our people are sadly under represented within the order and I believe it would do some good for them to know that not all of the Wardens are useless Shems." She answered quietly, looking to Namea for permission and guidance.

"A noble pursuit." The commander replied. "I know of another Dalish warden who may wish to join you, if you are averse to going alone. I can give you her name and the last known location she checked in at."

"That would be helpful, thank you. I was a bit apprehensive about going myself." The mage answered honestly. "With your leave, I shall go pack." She disappeared then, up into her room and Oghren chuckled.

"I'm goin' with yah, of course." The dwarf said gruffly. "Got a letter from Felsi yesterday...she says that bein' round you has improved me and she thinks yer a good influence. I figure if I let her miss me a little longer she may be more eager to lube up the old bronco if ya know what I mean..."

She wrinkled her nose at the imagery there. "That's more information than I needed Oghren, but it is good to know you'll be with me."

Anders and Sigrun just looked at her with their arms crossed. "You mean with us. Don't forget, we already said we were going with you. The warden commander needs a grand retinue to make the world remember that she's the one who stopped the blight!" The spunky little dwarf exclaimed, winking at her.

"I doubt they're going to be particularly impressed by a quiet elf, an irritating mage and two dwarves, one of which could kill off many innocents with his breath alone." Anders retorted, but shrugged. "Either way, I doubt we're a troupe many would forget soon."

"Good." Namea answered unexpectedly. "As someone wise once told me, the fastest way to gain an advantage over your enemy is to confuse them."

Redcliffe castle loomed before them and Namea sighed. Finally they had arrived. The journey was mostly uneventful, but such a long trek was always tiring. Someday she'd break that unspoken Ferelden rule and buy a horse, she swore. "We're here guys!"

Anders and Sigrun stared at the castle with large eyes while Oghren just shrugged it off. He'd been there before with Namea of course. The soldier at the gates stopped them, giving her a glare that said quite clearly he had no idea who she was. Either this guy was new, or Namea had changed more than she realized. "Halt! Who goes there!" He asked imperiously.

The elf fished in her pack, finally bringing out the seal that declared her rank. "Namea Tabris, Commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens." She replied easily, holding the seal in one hand with the other on her hip. "If you really need proof then go grab Eamon, Teagan or even that shrew Isolde and they'll vouch for me."

"There will be no need for that. Let her in please, I assure you this woman is who she claims to be." A young, but deeper than she remembered voice called out. The voice stemmed from a figure striding across the courtyard wearing mage Apprentice robes. His face was split into a smile when he saw Namea and he hugged her when she walked in the gate. The tiny elf looked _up_ at him with incredulous eyes.

"Who are you and what have you done with the child I saw last?" She asked, blinking wildly. "Andraste's knickers boy, you've grown twice your height!"

He laughed, his newly broken voice resounding in her ears. "Or you've shrunk Commander, after all it's been over two years since you saw me last."

"Yes...but then your head barely reached my chest and now you're taller than me!" She exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I haven't overtaken Uncle yet, or father, and even Senior enchanter Wynne is taller than me. She told me to send you her love and said she may pop in while you're here." He noted, leading her towards the castle doors.

The others just watched in a kind of fascination at the interactions between Namea and this child. Obviously she was someone he looked up to, almost like an older sister or favourite aunt. It was odd to see her in that light and she seemed much more relaxed than usual. This was the Namea Oghren remembered.

"Ah yes, allow me to introduce my companions." She spoke, noting the stares of those behind her. "The mage is Anders and that furry head poking out of his pack is Ser-Pounce-A-Lot. You've met Oghren, he hasn't changed, as well as Maku, and lastly the pretty dwarf there is Sigrun. They're all grey wardens...well except Maku and Ser-Pounce-A-Lot."

"A pleasure to meet you all. I am Connor. My father is Arl Eamon." He replied, giving them all respectful bows like the young nobleman he was. "If you'll all come with me, Father has been expecting you."

They followed him, winding through the great stone halls of Redcliffe. True, it wasn't as large as the castle in Denerim, but in Namea's opinion it was warmer and much lovelier. Of course, it could just have been the presence of Arl Eamon, the castle's kind owner. The bearded man himself appeared before them, all smiles as he openly embraced the elven commander. "My dear girl you have changed! I nearly did not recognize the lovely young lady walking with my son, thought he may be entertaining a guest for a moment!"

She rolled her eyes. "You however have not changed a bit." She sobered then, her eyes regaining their ice. "I came as soon as I could. Shall we go somewhere less public?"

"Are you sure you'd not like to greet Isolde first?"

"Positive." She answered dryly. It was obvious that Isolde was on the list of people Namea would rather not deal with...in any situation.

They were hustled to a private parlour, but not before Eamon mentioned that he'd had rooms prepared for each of them. Seeing her companion's faces at the mention of a real bed Namea turned and dismissed them to their quarters, accepting no argument and leaving her alone with the elderly Arl. He closed the door behind her, gesturing for her to take a seat across from his large desk. She did not, instead leaning against the bookshelf beside the desk instead. Finally, he looked up at spoke. It was not often that the Arl's kind eyes gained the worry they had now, but it seemed as though he were almost as concerned as he'd been during the blight. "I am not a young man Commander, you know this." He began. "But I am still sound of mind and I care deeply for my brother and my country...I fear that both are in danger now. You will recall that Teagan was set to marry a woman named Kaitlyn from here in Redcliffe. I had thought them very in love and she was a charming girl who actually credited you with her newly raised status in life. A few months ago however he quite suddenly broke off the engagement and exiled her from his estate. She is living fine now, in a small home near Denerim, but his behaviour has only become stranger since then."

One black eyebrow arched and she crossed her arms. "Stranger how?"

"First, there is the woman. I swear I have never before heard of her and suddenly he announces that he is to marry her! I have since met the girl and while she seems nice...something is not right with her. What's more, Connor insists that she must be a demon in disguise and I am wont to trust my son in this. Even Isolde does not like her company. Then there is his lack of communication...my brother and I used to write each other often and he would visit me here on a regular basis...but since their engagement I have received few letters and even fewer visits. When I do see him at public junctions he is quiet and his smile looks forced..."

"I see..." She sat for a moment with her eyes closed, weighing the possibilities. "Arl Eamon, may I ask a small favour of you?"

"Of course, whatever you need." He answered instantly.

"I feel as though I need to speak with an expert on demons and possessions. If I could just borrow a horse, I will gladly ride out in a couple of days to the circle tower and speak with Irving and Wynne. The tower is not far from here and I am certain they could offer me some way of _knowing_ if she is a demon." The elf noted.

"Of course. I would like you to meet her also, after speaking with the mages."

"It won't be easy to meet her Arl Eamon. If she truly is a demon trying to control Teagan she won't want me around..." She spoke softly, wracking her brain for some way of arranging a coincidental meeting.

"Ah, but I have that covered." He said smugly.

Her eyes turned upon him and she tilted her head. "What are you plotting old man?"

"Alistair has agreed to arrange a grand ball in Denerim for my birthday...I would like you to attend as the Warden Commander of Ferelden, my personal guest. I am certain that Teagan and this mysterious woman will be there and it will give me a perfect opportunity to introduce you to her without seeming the least bit suspicious."

As much as the idea of attending a giant function where she would doubtless be forced to wear some monstrosity of a dress made her sick, it was a brilliant idea. "If I must. You are right Arl Eamon, it is a good plan. I shall rest here for a day or two and then I'll borrow a horse and be to the tower and back in less than a week. When is this celebration?"

"The ball is to be held two months from now in the royal palace. There should be plenty of time for you to return to the keep and see that things are secure there before making your way to Denerim." He answered.

"Aye..." Her mind was still whirling over the situation when Eamon spoke again.

"Oh, and of course you'll need to bring a guest. The lovely commander of Ferelden's wardens could hardly be seen going stag to such an affair. I suggest bringing that mage friend of yours...by the way he was looking at you I believe he would guard your back quite well..."

"Something tells me you have ulterior motives for asking me to bring Anders rather than someone less...magey...such as Nathaniel Howe. Certainly he would know better how to handle himself at such an affair."

Nodding, the Arl shrugged. "Yes, but a part of me wonders if Teagan won't be a bit more open to you if he recalls the mutual attraction to one another you two once had...and gets jealous of your date and the idea of you and a Howe as anything but friends is laughable. The fact is that if his newfound lover is a demon in disguise I trust a mage to handle himself much better than even the esteemed Ser Howe." Something in the Arl's smile made Namea uncomfortable but she sighed.

"I'll ask him. And if I find out you're playing matchmaker on me I will find a way to make you undergo the joining." She mock threatened.

"Now why would an old man want to play matchmaker when he knows very well that he ruined your last relationship? You have done much for me and my family, and I repaid you by taking away what little happiness you'd found." He suddenly sounded old, and sad. Regret tinged that noble voice and Namea felt almost touched.

"Eamon, it was not your doing. If you recall I made the decision to put Alistair on the throne. I did what was best for Ferelden and what was best for him. If I could choose again, I would do the same even knowing what would be the result. He has been a fine king, has he not?" When he looked at her she smiled softly. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of one love struck elven girl." He nodded reluctantly and she patted his shoulder. "Now if you do not mind Ser, I believe I shall head to the generously provided room, and perhaps detour to the kitchen on the way. The idea of a hot meal that wasn't cooked by me and a real bed is going to make me start drooling on the carpets."

When he dismissed her the tiny woman left, striding her way down the hallways of the familiar fortress and looking around. How many times had she been here now to know the passageways by heart? The smell of meat emerged from the kitchens and she let her nose quicken her steps, knocking upon the door until an undercook opened it and hustled her to a table. The mistress of the kitchen looked her over with a keen eye and tsked, fluffing her gravy-stained apron. "Well then little one, it has been a while and I daresay you look thinner than last time! We can't have the big important Warden Commander sulking around like a bag of bones!" She crowed, wiping sweat from her round face with a cloth. "What'll it be?"

"Whatever you're making is fine with me, I am so hungry I could eat my Mabari." Namea answered, feeling her mouth begin to water as the smells surrounded her.

"Well you're in luck. I heard you was comin' and as I recall your favourite meal is roast chicken with sausage dumplings and carrots, am I right?" The large woman asked, though she knew the answer. A plate was set before the hungry commander and she smiled when she saw Namea's eyes widen. "I guess I'm right."

The elf didn't hear her, so busy was she tearing into the meal with all the gusto of a growing boy. Regardless of what went on in the world and regardless of her own internal struggles, Namea always had time for roast chicken.

Ooo

Anders woke groggily as the sun streamed in through the window in his room. Scratching his head, the mage stood and gathered a casual set of breeches and a tunic in his arms. Stifling a yawn he headed towards his door, petting the sleeping form of Ser-Pounce-A-lot on the way out. Down the hall was a washroom, and it was his hope that no one else would be in it at the moment. One of the conveniences of sleeping at castle Redcliffe was the marvellous copper tubs fed directly from underground hot springs. Though he would probably have to pump it himself in this off time, the idea of a bath in hot water that he did not need to heat using his magic was a wonderful one. He truly pitied non-mages when they were at the keep, since he knew they had to light the braziers under the tubs there and wait for water to heat. Here however everyone got better bathing experiences. "I should tell the commander to get some of these for the keep..." He muttered as he entered the blissfully empty room. Idly laying his clothes on the counter he headed first for the water closet to answer nature's rather insistent call before heading to the pump. Strong arms worked the winch up and down and with each pull steaming water poured into the round kettle, large enough for a man to sit comfortably in. When his arms were duly tired and the tub was as full as he liked the mage stripped down and settled himself in, sighing in pure contentment. "Now if only there was a pretty girl to give me a massage the world would be perfect." He muttered, letting his hair float around him.

"By pretty girl do you mean the commander?" A husky voice called and Anders nearly drowned himself before finally letting his heart slow.

"Maker! Don't sneak up on me like that you ale-breathed halfman!" He growled, steadying Oghren with a glare as the dwarf worked to fill the second tub in the room. "Must you bathe while I'm in here? It's a bit...odd."

"It's not like I'm in the tub with ya, and you're avoiding my question." His tub filled much faster than the mages had and the human took a small moment to feel slightly envious of the undeniable strength dwarves possessed. "Look away while I get in ya pansy, I don't go for pretty boys like you."

"Ugh. That's disgusting to even ponder." His companion gagged, turning away until he heard a telltale splash. "I heard no question to avoid." Pointedly he looked at the wall.

"Sure ya didn't. Lemme say it again then...by pretty girl to massage you, you mean if only you had our little commander to lay her little hands on ya. It's no secret the way you look at her. Ancestors, I'm surprised she hasn't realized it herself yet."

"I...dammit what do you care!" The mage and the dwarf mostly got along, trading playful banter most of the time. His closest friend amoung their companions was undoubtedly Sigrun, who knew his secret and was able to understand his sense of humour well enough. Oghren however was currently trespassing on something that the mage did not know if he was ready to admit to himself, let along share. Sigrun prodding him about it was one thing, but now the drunkard? What if in his usual ale –soaked state one night he _told_ Namea? There was no way that conversation would go well for Anders.

"Look. I may not seem too bright but I know love when I see it. I've even felt it enough to get married, twice." For once the dwarf seemed serious and Anders couldn't help but look at him, seeing a sobriety in his green eyes that had never been there before. "Ya know, you're not the only one to have loved her and neither is Alistair. That little woman is easy to love in all sorts of ways."

"What do you mean?" The man asked quietly, turning in the water and resting his chin on his arms as they crossed on the rim of the tub.

"Well, I mean our old companions. Some of them loved her like a sibling, some like a student, some as a pal. Not all love is about playin' the ole' skinflute if ya know what I mean." He nodded and ran a hand through the currently unbraided part of his moustache. "The only problem with loving her the way you do, is how the rest of us who love her in different ways will deal with it."

"Oh? Okay, so let's just pretend you're right and I might have feelings for her...how would that go over?" He asked. "And...well you know her right?"

Oghren chuckled. "You wanna know if it's possible for her to ever feel it back eh?"

Mutely, the mage nodded with darkened eyes. He already knew the answer, or so he thought. There was no way that Namea could think of him that way, or rather there was no way she could think of him that way and not hate herself for it. "I'm not stupid either Oghren. I know I...I know I look like him. People told me my whole adult life that I looked like that boy king Cailen and Alistair looks like him too. We're bloody similar." In a way, he felt selfish for staying near her so much, thinking it must hurt every time she looked at him.

"It's not like you to drown in self pity boy." The dwarf barked. "Look, provided you're as good a man as you seem to be, everything will work out. As for the elf girl, well...you treat her good. Girls like guys that treat them good, but girls like her, strong girls like Namea an' Felsi and Branka, those broads don't wanna be treated like glass. It's good that you don't act like she's some delicate flower or somethin'. I think...I think that if you keep workin' like you are and getting her back to the old girl I remember...you got a fightin' shot." He thought for a moment about Ander's resemblance to Alistair and laughed aloud. "You bleedin' runt, you're not _that_ much like him. Think of it this way if yeh will: You're a mage, you wear a dress. He was a templar; he wore big heavy shiny armour all the time. His voice was deeper than your girly one but you have a way better sense of humour. Annd..."

"What?" His eyes narrowed.

"And...chantry boy was a _virgin_ before her." He snickered. "All in all, he was a scared little duster and you're not. I say you win. I mean you got your flaws too...don't think I'm bleedin' in love with ya or anything." The dwarf wrinkled his nose at the thought. "But...you're sodding alright. He was alright too but a guy like him could never have handled a wild one like the commander anyway."

The thought was comforting, even if the cold water was no longer. Anders saluted his friend and slid from the tub, dressing quickly. "Thank you Oghren. I think I need to talk to the Commander then." He spoke quietly, pulling his hair back into a ponytail and leaving the room. Maybe he could probe some more out of the woman herself then, after all they were safely in the castle, she had to be more willing to talk, right?

Ooo

"What do you mean she's gone!" The mage yelped, his eyes bulging as Arl Eamon shrugged at him.

"She borrowed a horse and rode to the circle. Surely you were informed?"

"I wasn't." Bitterly he stomped back up to his room. Damn the woman!

Ooo

It had been quite a while since Namea last visited the circle tower. From the hilltop overlooking lake Calenhad it was imposing, a mighty spire stabbing into the sky. She allowed the gentle black gelding to take his time down the slope, tying him outside the "Spoiled Princess Tavern" And walking inside. The bartender greeted her like an old friend, insisting that she enjoy a pint of his finest ale on the house before continuing on. When asked if the horse could remain outside he agreed easily. The tiny elf was perched at the bar, sipping her ale when a callused finger tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to look into the green eyes of Felsi, Oghren's wife. Her eyebrow was cocked and Namea smiled at the pretty dwarf woman.

"So, I see you're here, does that mean that stinking pile of bronto shit is with you?" She asked politely, or what passed for politely in her book.

"Eh... no. Oghren is taking a deserved rest at Redcliffe castle...ehh..."

"Good. Do you mind taking him a letter for me?" She asked, cocking her hip.

"Of course not." The dwarf handed over a thick packet of parchment and Namea stored it safely in her pack, nodding before standing with a sigh. "Well it looks like I'm off to the tower. Wish me luck pretty lady."

Felsi smiled and gave a smack to the elven woman's rump, chuckling at the commander's stunned squeak. "Good luck!"

Blinking in shock she made her way outside, rubbing her behind once the dwarf could not see her. "I haven't been spanked like that since Daveth..." She muttered, walking down to the dock where the familiar boatman readily agreed to row her across. Rising before her as she stood at the door, the tower was even more intimidating and she silently thanked the maker that she was not a mage. "I couldn't stand to live here..." The tiny woman muttered.

"Tell me about it." A deep female voice chuckled. From the shadows she stepped, taller than most human women easily, and thus towering over Namea. Her dark skin and violet eyes marked her immediately as not native to Ferelden, though she had no accent. "You got here faster than we expected." The woman's robes rustled as she walked forward, running a hand through her short silver locks.

"Fiona?" The commander stood there, blinking for a few seconds as the Orlesian born-Ferelden raised woman just smiled at her. "Young lady, you had better have a good excuse for leaving your post." Suddenly she was stern again, glaring coolly.

"I had to Commander..." Fiona looked down, and then sighed. "There are some things you do not know...please, come with me inside to speak with Irving. Wynne is eager to see that you're in one piece." The warden mage smiled hopefully. "And I dragged someone with me who may break you in a hug when she sees you."

Fiona's mention of Wynne already had Namea quickening her pace, but the last made her stop and turn before realization dawned and she turned her walk into a sprint through the large double doors and into the main hall of the tower's first floor. Sure enough, a loud squeal split the air and she found herself caught up in the arms of a human woman with bright red hair who was spewing words in such rapid Orlesian that the Commander's limited grasp on the language couldn't keep up. "Common speak! Leli! My Orlesian is rusty!" She protested, hugging the other woman just as tightly.

"I'm sorry! I was just so excited to see you!" The bard gushed, bending down to get a good look at Namea's face and frowning at what she saw. "You have not been smiling...or eating as well as you once did." She affirmed. "When Fiona told me she needed to speak to you, I was not about to let her go alone..."

"Someone has to keep the tent warm during those long cold Ferelden Nights..." The silver-haired young woman purred, pulling Leliana to her and giving the redhead a tender kiss.

"You're going to offend someone if you keep doing that!" The bard protested, yet Namea could see the smile playing in her blue eyes.

"So you condoned her leaving her position? Who is acting as the Ferelden ambassador to Orlais' wardens then?"

Fiona shrugged. "Don't know and don't care. I told them I was leaving and they promised to fill the position while I was away...you're not really angry, are you?"

"Depends on what you have to say." The commander answered honestly.

"I've been dreaming of you." Fiona answered quietly, looking down.

"Fi, you're beautiful and all...and if you didn't have Leli I'd gladly drag you off into an office somewhere and l-."

"She means nightmares that you die!" Leliana interrupted, glaring at her with blue eyes that so often held mirth. Normally a comment like that would have had her giggling uncontrollably. Obviously this was serious.

"How familiar are you with magic in general?" A soft voice asked as a gentle, wrinkled hand rested on her shoulder and Namea turned to look up at Wynne. The scent of flowers surrounded her and she found herself relaxing truly for the first time in a year and leaning on the old mage. The senior enchanter simply held her close, but continued speaking, joined by First enchanter Irving as well. "Some people have the ability to see bits of the future; usually it comes in the form of dreams."

"You mean some mages?" Namea asked, finally looking up again.

"No child. Even non-mages can have this ability." Irving corrected in his husky voice, sounding more tired than ever. "However it is rare and very few can actually get more than blurry images to manifest. Mages tend to see their visions more clearly because we are trained to clear our minds in a way that others are not, so it is mistakenly believed that the gift shows up more in those with magic."

"I see...I take it Fiona is one of these people?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I believe so, yes. As am I." The old man answered. "Her ability may be stronger even than mine, for I believe she may be seeing further into the future than I. Just remember child, there is no ONE future...we are seeing strands of something according to the path you are on now. If something changes at any moment it could change the future reflected to us...also, our visions are not always literal. Sometimes visions can be symbolic."

"So...what are you guys seeing?" The elf asked, tilting her head as she stood with one of Wynne's arms still around her shoulders as if for moral support.

"Finally you decide to let me in Irving." Wynne snapped, glaring in a way that few saw.

"I am sorry Wynne...but you would have worried too much had I told you sooner. Know now that what I see is this: In the dream the Commander is standing in pure blackness. On one side of her is a red light that drips like blood. On the other is a blue light that cracks like glass. She reaches for the blue and it pulls away from her, starting to disintegrate so she turns to the red. When she touches it, the blue stops fracturing and becomes whole but she is sucked into it. Then she is standing, naked, in the darkness with her form covered in blood and it appears she has been tortured...I would wonder if it were symbolic here as well...if it weren't for the fact that I know the place she is in to be the dungeon of the royal castle...and...the word traitor is scrawled upon the wall behind her in blood."

"You're saying that in the dream, I betray Ferelden!" She gasped. "I would never-."

"Think on the rest of the dream child. If you had to make a choice...-."

Namea cut him off, shaking her head violently. "I would _never_ betray Ferelden. I know my duty Irving and that it comes before anything else. I have proven this once, have I not?"

Her blatant reference to the fact that she had chosen Ferelden over her own happiness did not go unnoticed. Leliana looked down, wrapping her arms around herself as she remembered the face of her friend that night. Wynne merely nodded, supporting the commander. "It is true Irving. Namea would never do such a thing. The vision must mean something other than that..."

He sighed. "I hope you are both right, for all of our sakes. There is no one I could imagine being a worse thread to our land than you if you were to turn against us child."

Fiona stepped forward then. "If you are done, First enchanter, I would like to tell her my dream now...it has plagued me for too long now."

"Of course. Go ahead Miss Amell." He answered, waving his hand at her.

The dark-skinned woman sighed and looked to her lover for support before beginning. "I feel as though my dream may not be as symbolic as Irving's, although I doubt it is an exact premonition either...In the dream you are standing with your weapons drawn, and you jump into a wall of fire...behind you a man with blonde hair yells, I believe he is a mage because he uses a rather ornate knife that he has on him to slice open his chest and does something...demons appear and a dwarf woman seems to believe he summoned them and knocks him out with the pummel of her sword, but they keep coming and they are attacking her and a dwarf man with red hair...then Maku jumped into the flames after you and I hear laughter...that is all..."

Namea's chest constricted and she stood there, shivering slightly. "I...see."

"I...I did not know that it was a foretelling at all...except...in the dream your hair is long, as it is now...and when last I saw you it was short. I do not believe my imagination could invent your new armour either..." The mage was almost whispering when she saw Namea's wide-eyed stare. "Those people in the dream...you know them don't you?"

"Yes..." The Commander looked down. "Yes I do. The female dwarf is Sigrun; she has been with me for a while now. The male is Oghren, he is also travelling with me and Leli and Wynne would remember him. Maku you all know, and the mage..." Her voice cracked for some odd reason but she continued. "The mage is Anders. Wynne saw him with me when we met up in Amaranthine."

Her cracking voice did not go without notice and Wynne made up her mind to ask the girl about it before she'd let her leave. Instead she asked another question. "I take it you are here about that private business that Alistair told me about."

"Yes." She looked up. "We believe that Bann Teagan is being seduced by a demon. I came to ask if there is any aid that the Circle can give in identifying the demon, if that is in fact what the woman is. Connor told me that he met her and she is a demon. I believe him. The boy has been possessed before and mages may not believe this, but I feel it may bestow more sensitivity to them upon him."

Irving nodded. "I agree. There is controversial evidence on both sides of the debate, but if he says she is a demon, we should treat her with caution because she may very well be one...we may have an artifact that can identify demons...but...I do not know if I can give it to you. The council would never allow it certainly."

"There may be another way." Fiona interjected. "First enchanter...if you will recall, my parting from the circle was not exactly on the most...friendly of terms."

Namea remembered the story well as Fiona had told it to her. The silver-haired woman had been friends with Jowan, a blood mage who later helped in freeing Connor from his possession. At that point however Jowan was merely an apprentice mage whilst Fiona had gone through her harrowing to become a full member of the circle of magi. Jowan had fallen in love with a woman, a cloistered sister in fact, and needed Fiona's assistance in retrieving his Phylactery so that he could run away with his love. Though it pained her, the woman had gone to Irving and told the first enchanter of her friend's plan. He had insisted she go through with it so that a trap could be sprung. The end result, after travelling through tunnels filled with dangerous artifacts was that Jowan had resorted to blood magic in his desperation to escape and Fiona had been accused of being Malificar as well, regardless of the fact that she was working under Irving's orders. The only thing saving her from being made tranquil was Irving's suggestion that she join the Grey Wardens instead.

Fiona had not minded that alternative in the least. It would get her out of the tower and allow her to help Ferelden. Gregeaor, eager to help the Wardens after they'd saved the circle, agreed as well and all were satisfied. What that had to do with anything however, Namea did not know, but she reckoned that Fiona would tell them.

"Has the council sorted through all of the objects stored in the vaults since I left for the wardens?" She asked.

"I don't believe so but...I see..."

"I do not understand?" Leliana admitted. "What good does that do?"

"It means that Irving can give Namea the object and claim that it was stolen by Jowan during he and Fiona's foray into the vaults." Provided Wynne, smiling fondly at them all.

"Had you any great ambitions of leaving for Redcliffe tonight?" Irving asked.

The elven woman thought for a moment. "Well...the horse I borrowed is stabled at the spoiled princess...but I suppose he could remain overnight. I'll compensate the owner on the morrow...if there is room for me in the tower, I would be honoured to stay the night."

He smiled. "Very well then, tonight, when the halls are silent I shall retrieve the object from the vaults and deliver it to your room. Tomorrow you can leave with it and none shall be the wiser." The old man had a glint in his eye, as though looking forward to the small adventure he was to have, acting in stealth as he must have in his youth. It was hard to imagine Irving young, but Namea supposed he must have been once. "If that is all, I must go. My door keeps mysteriously turning into cheese and I would like to see if it is possible to set a trap for the resourceful apprentice who manages every time to elude capture. I have no doubt that someone so skilled at remaining at large will be a fine mage one day...however that does not mean I like my room smelling of cheese on a regular basis."

Having dismissed himself, the enchanter left the room and Namea looked at Fiona and Wynne. Was this was mages did for entertainment? "Life in the tower must be dreadfully dull." She muttered.

"Or Irving's reaction to a swiss door is very entertaining." Wynne replied with a glimmer of mirth in her kind gaze. "So child, come, I will show you to your room and you must tell me what it is you have been getting yourself into of late. Alistair was not so forthcoming with me on your status when last I saw him, and you never return my letters."

With a last wave to Leliana and Fiona the Commander allowed herself to be steered and lectured like a troublesome child, simply enjoying the sound of Wynne's voice after so long. "Sorry...I know I am horrible when it comes to correspondence. I'll try to write back more..."

"And more than two lines. Your last letter back to me read exactly_: "All is well here, the weather is turning warm and soon it will be time for the festivals to begin. I miss you and I shall see you next time I return to the tower. –N" _Hmmph...the nerve. You did not even sign with your name. Do I not even warrant the extra four letters?" Her tone was probing however, and Namea glanced up at her.

"Of course you do, but something tells me you are holding back a question. I've seen that look on your face before my old friend. Out with it."

Sighing as only one of her age could, Wynne stopped before a door, opening it and gesturing for Namea to lead her inside. The guest room was not large, but the bed looked inviting and it had its own fireplace, which made it heaven as far as the elven woman was concerned. "What I really mean is, Namea are you alright? One so young should not have eyes so old."

The commander threw herself backwards on the bed. "The dwarves got a new king, the Dalish were cured of a curse, The Circle was saved, Ashes of a crazy dead woman cured Arl Eamon, Civil war was averted, The blight was stopped, numerous people came out ahead and lived happily ever. I thought I would too, or at least somewhat. Then I was put in charge of a group whose numbers totalled less than my toes and told that we were responsible for taking care of every problem relating to darkspawn in the entire country. A crazy sentient one was taken care of along with his insane rogue broodmother and Ferelden was once again safe before it was truly in danger...What I mean to say is..._Can't something bad happen to Antiva or Orlais for once!_ Does it have to be Ferelden again!"

Wynne chuckled and settled herself beside the elf. "You know...in that tirade I heard _"Why is it always me. Why can't I have my happily ever after."_ But you know why little one."

She sighed. "Because I'm a Grey Warden. We don't have happily ever afters. We have happily 30 year afters and then we disappear into the deep roads to die. Grey Wardens don't get to sit around and feel sorry for themselves and wonder why they aren't allowed to just be left alone for a while with no one depending on them."

"Not exactly. Yes, you are a Grey Warden Namea...but perhaps you've forgotten that you're also a person. You are one person with a lot of responsibility on your head and with the way you just ranted I wonder if you ever get to let yourself just be that person." Wynne leaned down, pulling her close so that her head rested on the old mage's lap. A soft hand lightly stroked through her tousled black hair. "You have changed a great deal my friend. A part of me wonders if it was for the best or not."

"Of course it was Wynne. I learned that my duty comes first. I cannot afford to think of myself when there are others who need me to think of them. I'll take time to be a person when there isn't a demon trying to take the throne." She muttered.

Something in her tone suggested that the subject should be changed, so Wynne instead smiled. "I see that you have managed to keep Anders out of trouble. Alistair was not kind with his words, but I gleaned from them that you have inspired loyalty in him enough that he would protect you even from the king himself."

Namea sighed. "If the bastard wasn't so much like Alistair my life would be easier. He's a great friend and all but dammit Wynne, when I see him sometimes he isn't who I see...does that make sense?"

"Child, Anders is not as much like Alistair as you think. Get to know him more before saying so. That boy, for all that he is full of a million kinds of trouble is also warmer than Alistair ever was. It was no fault of Alistair's that he was naive to the world, but it caused him to be afraid of _living_ in it. For as long as I've known Anders, that is what he does best. When he was an apprentice he would skip lessons and I would usually find him outside in the garden, just lying on the ground to look at the clouds. I would ask him why he skipped lessons and he would inform me that he'd already learned that day's work on his own and he would rather be outside where he could imagine a world that wasn't surrounded by Lake Calenhad." The old mage smiled fondly. "He was a troublemaker, but a good child all the same."

The commander nodded at the revelation. "I suppose so...I don't...know if I want to get to know him more Wynne..." For a moment she almost spilled everything she felt into the lap of her old friend, and the smell of flowers almost seemed to encourage that, but instead she closed up again and shook herself mentally. The cold cloak had been partially down since she arrived in Redcliffe, surrounded by familiar faces. That was a mistake she realized and immediately it was back. "I should get some sleep. Thank you for listening Wynne." Sitting up, smiled in a way that was more polite than it was familiar and stood in what was an obvious, gentle dismissal.

Her sudden freeze took the Senior Enchanter by surprise and she just stared, then sighed sadly and stood. "If you continue to close your heart off, you will never find your happily ever after." With those parting words, she walked to the door and closed it behind her, leaving Namea alone in a guest room that was much colder than when they arrived. When the older woman had left, the elf walked to the fireplace and lit it with the tinder and flint on the mantle, throwing a log into it from the stack near the window. She curled up on the bed and sighed, letting the warmth of the blaze wash over her. "I'm sorry Wynne...but even for you, I don't think I can be that strong."

Ooo

The morning dawned, overcast and raining in a way that rather fit Namea's mood, but would probably not mean a good day of travel. With a pendant of black metal around her neck, the commander stood in the little boat rowing from the circle to the dock. Her friends waved to her and she returned the farewell, looking down at the odd little necklace. According to Irving's written description, the stone that served as its charm would change colour and become warm in the presence of a demon. She shrugged and tucked the trinket beneath her armour, better able to feel it should the temperature change. The bartender was more than alright with having stabled the gelding for the night, and flabbergasted by the gold she insisted on giving him for his trouble. It was probably more than he saw all year. Giving him and Felsi a wave she mounted the horse and started him up the muddy road to Redcliffe. "C'mon boy...let's hope this rain doesn't hold the entire way back."

Days later, as they neared the castle, Namea looked up bitterly. The rain had lasted, in fact it had lasted until almost the exact moment that castle Redcliffe became visible, signalling that their journey was less than an hour to its end. Then, as quickly as if by magic, the rain was gone, leaving a sunny sky in its place. She sniffled and pulled the hood of her cloak down further, glaring between the gelding's ears at the road before them. "When we get there I am going to bed and no one shall rouse me until every inch of me is warm and dry." She swore. "So help me...the first person who tries to take me away before that is getting stabbed."


	7. Chapter 7: Nightmares

**Author's Note: **I am sooo sorry for the long wait! Here's chapter 7! Chapter 8 within a week hopefully. Anyway...if you've been waiting it might be a good idea to go back and re-read 1-6. I did some minor editing that makes the story flow better and clears up some confusion.

NO there will NOT be a Namea/Zevran romance EVER. They are best friends, like siblings. There may be some harmless flirting in their dialogues but c'mon, can you imagine Zev not flirting with anyone?

* * *

Chapter 7: Nightmares

The road before them seemed to stretch endlessly, leading to the blurry figure that was Vigil's keep in the distance. Anders fumed as he walked behind the Warden Commander, fists clenched at his sides. First the woman had gone to the tower without telling him, and then made herself absolutely scarce the moment she returned to redcliffe. She was always in a meeting with Eamon or mysteriously gone. He'd assumed that she would be free when they were traveling back from Redcliffe. He was wrong. From the moment they'd stepped onto the road she had become even more cold than before, if possible. The mage did not know what had happened at the tower, but somehow all of his progress had vanished and that angered him extremely. Sigrun seemed to have noticed as well, and simply frowned whenever she looked at the elven woman leading them. They passed through the gates and Namea turned. "Well everyone, we're home. Try to get some rest." She nodded then and Anders watched her go with a weary sigh. He might as well do as she said, for now. The damn woman couldn't escape him if he cornered her in her room, and he would make her talk.

She looked over to where Wade had his forge set up and started in that direction, hoping that the custom swords she'd ordered before leaving were ready. While the twin blades she was using now were good, they were slightly heavier than she preferred and styled in a standard ferelden manner rather than the Dalish curved blades she was used to. That was what Wade had in stock when she left however, so she'd bought them as substitutes while she waited for the new blades to be ready. The smith was there, humming a jaunty tune to himself as he only did when there were exciting materials involved. His assistant, and she assumed lover, however was noteably absent. "Hey Wade. Where's Herren?" She asked him curiously.

"Oh, he went to go help unload something somewhere...I don't really know. I assume you're here about your order though?" Something in his tone piqued her interest.

"You sound rather...smug..." She noted.

"And I have every right. They are _perfect_ I tell you! The starmetal shaped so wonderfully...but for you, I chose something better."

"But...I thought starmetal was the best...that's why I requested it...it's what my old blades were made from..." She protested.

"Pish Posh! Starmetal is very fine indeed, but you are some big important military person, right?"

"Warden Commander of Ferelden. Wade, what is better than Starmetal?" The tiny elf was a bit skeptical obviously, though the smith was a master and had indeed made every bit of equipment she herself wore constantly.

"Volcanic Aurum. It has such a lovely gold colour naturally, but you always request your weapons to be black...so that's what they are. It's as strong as diamond and folded as many times over as there are hairs in my mustache!" He exclaimed with a flourish. "You're so cruel, giving _me_ such simple weapon orders...I wouldn't dare let your drab sense of style ruin Aurum so they might be a bit more ornate than you requested...but they're fully functional and they do match you quite strikingly." He noted.

She blinked. "I've never heard of that material...but I suppose you're the smith...let's see these masterpiece swords of yours then."

He skipped to where his weapons were displayed on a table and pointed to a shape covered by a bit of cloth. With a dramatic motion he pulled the cloth away and revealed two blades, perfectly curved and obviously razor sharp. There was no mistaking the dalish style in the curve of the blades, but that was where the similarities ended. Rather than the very unornamented blades that dalish used these dull black swords had intricately carved flames along the spine of metal. The hilts and guards were still relatively simple, though the bottom of the hilt was carved to look like a claw holding an orb. It was wrapped in dark grey cloth that matched her armour perfectly and the guard twisted subtly on both sides, symmetrical and yet somehow teasing to the eye. In truth, they were beautiful weapons. "I call them Demonsbane and Demonsblood."

She stared. Though she usually favoured very simple weapons with no ornamentation at all, there was no denying the grace in these. "Master Wade...I...I am speechless. These are...you are right, these are perfection itself."

"I told you so." The smugness was back. "Of course there are sheathes to match...and one more thing Commander..."

She raised a brow at him. "Oh? You really are expecting a tip aren't you?"

"Perhaps, but this is just because it was fun to make. A bow to match. I noticed that you've continued to carry around that Ironbark thing for a while now."

"Oh, I must see this then. I have been meaning to replace this faithful old friend..."

Once more he preened like a magician at a show as he pulled cloth from a beautifully smooth bow of heartwood. It had been stained a dull black just like the swords, though the bowstring almost shone silver even while unstrung. On the tips more flamed carvings matched the swords and the entire thing but for the grip was subtly twisted in the same way that the guards had been. Another piece of art and Namea found herself gaping. "Maker's eyes friend, this is beautiful!" She picked it up, stroking the string curiously. It was not waxy to her touch like most bowstrings but instead smooth and almost moist feeling. "What is it strung with?"

"They call it Diamond thread." He answered. "Almost unbreakable. One bowstring made of it will last a couple of years in an archer's care. I have included some extra of it for you to use in restringing if you should ever need to, and the scraps too short for bowstrings in case you wanted them for anything else."

"Wade...you are the maker's chosen weaponsmith I am sure!" She shook the man's hand and pressed enough gold to make his eyes bug into it before strapping the new sword sheathes onto her belt and removing the loaner blades. They felt right in her hand and on her hips, the exact perfect weight. The bow fit securely across her back with its quiver and she waved to the smith as she made her way towards the keep itself feeling extremely blessed. As she walked something burned against her chest and she stopped, clutching for it before she realized it was the stone. "A demon... here?" She muttered. Her eyes shifted, turning this way and that and she felt the stone cool as her body turned. When she once more faced forward, it began to feel hot again and she followed its insistance, drawing the blades with almost no noise and whipping around the corner to confront...Herren?

"Commander! You surprised me!" He squeaked, almost dropping the crate he carried. "Ah, I see you've gotten Wade's masterpieces. He would do nothing but work on those for so long that I think everyone else was beginning to think we'd gone out of business." He snorted. "You seem to have that effect on him." The last was said rather dryly and he sighed.

"Herren...was there someone...else here?" She asked, feeling the pendant throbbing as though trying to tell her something.

"Well...no...why?"

"I...it's nothing." But it wasn't. She knew that the pendant wasn't likely to be wrong. There had been a demon here, and she'd missed it somehow.

"I should get back to Wade, he'll be willing to work now that you've picked those up. Good day Commander." His flamboyant voice saluted her and he began to walk past her. The pendant flared up violently as he drew closer and her eyes widened. He looked sharply at her and his own did as well, suddenly glowing purple.

Before he could escape she threw her weight against him, pinning the shop assistant to the wall with a sword pointed at his throat. "Speak Demon. Where is Herren!" She snarled.

Blackness enveloped the end of the alley, assuring that no one saw them and the voice that came from Herren was not his own, but a sultry feminine one. "Mortal, I am Herren. I always have been...you just did not have the means to detect my true identity before now..."Somehow, the voice was not nearly as snide or cruel as demons tended to sound, but wary and perhaps a bit regretful. "How did you come across that intriguing pendant you wear?"

"That is none of your business!" She snapped. It hurt slightly to believe that this man she'd known for so long was a demon in disguise. "Herren...you...but..." She hardened then and glared once more towards the figure whose eyes were now unmistakeably those of a demon. "Show your true guise creature. I cannot deal with you while you wear that form."

A small sigh escaped but the demon shrugged. "Very well." Herren shifted and blurred, becoming that sensuous creature, yet with none of the usual attempts at seduction, no stroking her own body, no licking her lips, nothing. It was strange to see a desire demon that was so obviously...not acting desireable. "I do not suppose I can ask for mercy? Or at least explain myself?" The creature asked, crossing her arms but making no attempt to fight or run.

"You are an odd one." The elf admitted. "Speak then. Why have you been hiding in the form of a blacksmith's assistant? What is your plan?"

The horned woman chuckled, her face beautiful even while managing to look bitter and regretful. Finally she answered with a surprising amount of true feeling in her voice. "Originally I came here as all of my kind do...through a tear in the veil. I was curious and wanted to see the world. That was when I took the form of Herren and met Master Wade...I truly have no plan, I promise you this."

"Why have you remained then? Have you tried to stop me or hurt anyone?" The commander probed, glaring still.

This time the demon looked down and her eyes were dark. "I remained because...well I don't suppose you will believe this but I fell in love with Master Wade. I have never tried to harm anyone. It is not my wish to harm people, only to be allowed to go on living with the one who owns my heart. I have in fact helped you on occasion." Her tone was pleading, but Namea was skeptical all the same. Demons had a way of tricking people, perhaps this one had simply learned better methods.

"You are a desire demon...you have power...and yet you've done nothing but observe. I do not understand this at all..." She looked up at the purple skinned woman and tilted her head.

"I suppose it is odd...please, I beg of you, let me live. I have not fought you, I have not even attempted to and I revealed myself when ordered. I simply want to go on living as Herren."

"Does Wade know you are a demon?" The tiny woman asked suddenly.

She was answered by a definite negative in the form of the woman's head shaking. "He saw my demonic form once...in the siege of Denerim we were cornered by a Hurlock Vanguard and I transformed and teleported us away...He fainted at the moment I transformed however and when he woke I was safely back in Herren's form. I believe he attributes it to a dream."

Namea's mind whirled and just as if she were in a battle, the situation paused. If she let the woman live there was a possibility of a very powerful, and unique ally. If she killed her then there was no possibility of her betrayal. Normally the commander did not show mercy to demons, in fact she severely disliked them. This one however had the potential to become very useful and her words rang true, along with even small bits of proof to back them up. "Demon...do you have a name?" She asked.

"I...well in the fade I was called Herren'nal. Have you decided what to do with me?"

The elf nodded. "I believe so. I want you to promise to me, give your word for I know that a demon's promise is unbreakable...you will never stand against me or my people and never cause harm to innocents."

"I give you my word. I promise it upon my very blood and should I break it my body will dissolve and return to the fade forever." The demon replied. Power surrounded both women and the promise sank in, forming a bond that would break only in Namea's death. "You are indeed a noble soul, Commander. If you should ever have need of me, please call upon me. Saving a Demon comes with its rewards." Her smile was genuine, and lovely even in that inhuman face.

Her shorter captor released her grip and sheathed her weapons. "In fact, I might. There is a suspicion that someone of great importance is actually one of your kind in disguise. It is not normally a demon's perogative to take a throne, which makes me wonder if it is possible they are being controlled...is there a way to trace that control to its master?"

For a moment the demon thought, then slowly nodded. "I believe so. It is possible to bind one of us in this plane until a task is completed, or until the master's death. If you find out that this person is indeed one of my kin, come back to me. I shall search for ways to trace such things and I will tell you how then. I know that there must be a way, just not what it is."

"Thank you..." The commander turned as the blackness faded from the alley and once more Herren stood behind her. Over her shoulder, she smiled at the disguised demon. "Take care of Master Wade for me. He does good work."

Herren'nal watched the tiny woman go and in her human form smiled again. "I will. And I will not fail you my friend. You showed me compassion and I shall see that you do not regret that." She vowed silently to herself. Slowly the demon once more picked up the crate and made its way out to Wade who chattered idly about the commander's reaction to the perfect weapons he'd forged. "Indeed Master wade!" Herren's voice spoke. "The commander is a fine woman, now can we _please_ get back to the rest of the _paying customers _who are waiting for your crafts?"

ooo

The strange encounter was still on Namea's mind as she made her way up the steps and into the large double doors of Vigil's keep. Nathaniel stood in his iconic position, once held by Seneshcal Varel and she felt a pang of regret for the old steward's death, though Nathaniel was doing a great job in the position. Stepping before him, she bowed. "How are things here?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. The keep had looked to be in the process of rebuilding still and she sighed, peering around the hall. So many new faces amoung even just the guards...she knew all the old ones but these men and women were different, wary, and some of them seemed impossibly young. Against her neck the stone had gone cold and she placed a hand over it idly before looking back up to the young Howe.

"The rebuilding efforts are nearly complete. As you can see I've conscripted some new guards and they are up to nothing less than your minimum combat standards. All are well trained and we have them working in tandem with the surviving members of the old guards. There have been some minor issues extracting raw materials from the sources you found months ago for the keep upgrades but with help we've managed to fix them and I expect the walls to be even stronger than they were before. Your keep held up well during the attack Commander but I've taken the liberty of making some improvements upon your design..." His words were said in a tumble but she caught the main points and nodded in satisfaction especially at the end. It was obvious she'd made the right choice. Nathaniel was the perfect one to run the keep and obviously he was much better at it than she'd been. Word had been easy to pick up on the road and the common people seemed to enjoy him as their leader and felt that he was much more competent than his father had ever been.

A young woman, a face she recognized thankfully, came to her with a letter in hand. It was good to see that the Private had survived the siege. She took the letter and nodded. "It is good to see you are well Private. At ease."

"I have a letter for you sealed with the Warden's seal and a dalish seal...the other is sealed with only wax so I do not know who it is from." She said simply. With a salute she walked away and Namea turned the first letter over in her hands as Nathaniel looked on curiously.

"The first is from Velanna." She Said, looking up at him with a nod and opening it. The letter was written in a fine hand on the rough parchment that the dalish used:

_Commander,_

_After much searching and finally some magical aid I met up with the warden you told me of. Yiella is of great help to me and we've already sent two groups of prospective recruits to Amaranthine, hoping to undergo the joining. So far we've only come across two clans and word is that Yiella's clan has moved on to the Free Marches. She advises that it would be best not to wander there as our authority as Ferelden Wardens will not overshadow my status as a free mage there. Have Anders send reply message via magic when the recruits arrive. I am greatly interested to see who survives the joining. _

_-V_

She was impressed in spite of herself and handed the letter to Nathaniel. He read it and looked up with hope in his eyes. "We may be strengthening our order by quite a few members then, this is good news."

"Indeed." She replied. "We have barely a dozen now, it will be good to build our numbers...I should have been more digilant in my own recruiting efforts whilst travelling." She turned the second note over in her hand, examining it for any sign of sender and finally smelling it to be aware of poison or acid. Neither were present but a very strong smell of leather and spices was and she grinned. The note was from Antiva which likely meant it was from Zevran. That was all she needed to tear it open as though her life's blood was contained. The first thing she noticed was that the letter was much longer than any others she and Zevran had ever sent between each other.

_ My dear little friend,_

_Greetings from Antiva! Yes, I am back in the beautiful and deadly city of my homeland. News of your recent exploits has been passing along the political channels but you know as well as I not to trust all gossip you hear. It is with that said that you should know I am on my way back to Ferelden. You cannot escape me Warden Commander and before long we shall be causing trouble together again! I regret to say that the Warden Regina will not be coming with me. She has returned to Orzammar to attend the birthing of her sister's first child. Apparently it is some event of great significance that this babe is the first born into their family after the raising of their status. I do not know Dwarven Politics well enough to care. She was fun while she lasted but we parted amicably and I know we shall most certainly meet again in the future. I ran into Isabella during my travels and she sends her...charming hello. Apparently she is on her way to the free Marches that wild woman. Either way, I shall see you soon after you get this note, do not lie awake in anticipation. _

_-Zev_

The tiny woman's heart skipped a beat and she held the letter close to her, breathing in the scent before letting out a whoop of joy. Nathaniel's eyes widened at the seldom seen expression from her but she just nodded happily at him and held the note out. "Zevran is returning to Ferelden. If anyone can help me ferret out this newest intrigue it's him! No one knows dirty politics better than an Antivan...well perhaps an Orlesian would but Leli had no ideas on the matter." It felt wonderful, having seen so many people recently that she'd missed so dearly. A part of her sank however and she thought of her dreams about Morrigan. "I wonder if she's okay..." the woman asked herself quietly. She shook the thoughts from her head however and looked over at her fellow Warden. "Knowing Zev he posted this letter after he'd already left which means he could well be here tomorrow. Can we have a guest chamber prepared for him?" She asked.

"Of course Commander. I'll have it set up in the finest Antivan style." Nathaniel promised, glad to see her feeling so cheerful. His voice faded out to her mind as she turned, not listening as he ordered guards and servants about with a respectful efficiency. Instead she walked out to the yard, watching her dog as he played and ran in circles, chasing birds. From the top of the steps she could see the entirety of the courtyard. Wade and Herren stood together in their stall and the former waved happily while the latter simply gave her a mysterious smile. Soldiers came in from patrol and others left, small groups trained here and there and she approved of the skill she saw. In a strange way, this was home to her she realized but at the same time it was not. Perhaps there was no place she truly belonged but the road. Either way pulled the hood of her light travelling cloak over her head and set off down the center road towards the city itself. It was perhaps an hour's walk but there was plenty of daylight left for it.

Tonight she'd be reading and answering missives from anyone who needed anything from the Wardens. Luckily she no longer had to take care of the keep ones as well or she would never get to sleep. On the morrow they were going to leave for Denerim but she wondered idly if perhaps they should wait an extra day just in case Zevran were to show up. One day she reasoned would not make so much of a difference as long as they were there before the grand ball. With that decision made she stepped up to the gates of the city for the first time since she'd been defending it. The damage done to the stone walls had been repaired already and she noted many familiar faces amoung the guards. Aiden saluted her and waved her through, recognizing the tiny commander despite her cloak. She mentally thanked him for not saying anything, the last thing she wanted right now was for anyone to know who she was.

Within the city she walked and enjoyed the sights and smells. People wandered this way and that and she eyed them all with her usual calculating gaze. Stepping into the tavern her ears were assaulted by music played only slightly poorly along with loud drunken conversation. She ordered some simple fruit juice at the bar, ignoring the mocking expression on the keeper's face before taking a seat in the shadows to enjoy just being out. It wasn't that she had a problem with being in the keep, simply that she enjoyed exploring outside of it. She took a mental tally of the gold she had on her, deciding it was worth it to go peruse the shops some. Today was for her, no one else and she deserved it. A part of her was sad for her cool treatment of Wynne after their last conversation and she decided to make certain she apologized to the Senior Enchanteress when she saw her at the ball. Her dear friend and mentor didn't deserve that mistreatment from her. No one did...well almost no one.

When the sun was starting to bleed into the sky she was exiting the gates of the city with a pouch of odds and ends. A new lens for Sigrun's spyglass, some seeds that Nathaniel would probably like the plant around the keep and an odd sparkling powder that the vendor had sworn exploded. That one she was going to give to the crazy dwarf who made things go 'boom' for her. The keep was quiet when she arrived and night had fallen. It was nice to be able to walk the road in the darkness without being assaulted by Darkspawn. The first person who greeted her upon her return was of course Maku and she knelt down to hug the huge beast, kissing his broad brow. "I'm sorry I didn't take you with me boy..." She said quietly. "Next time, I promise." With that she headed to her quarters, mabari at her heels, to tend to missives and hopefully get some sleep.

Sleep was not to happen apparently. She woke still at her desk and groaned, realizing there must be ink on her face. Peering into her looking glass she straightened herself as much as possible before collecting garments and heading for the bath. After the relaxing hot water and feeling much cleaner, she made her way down the hallway only to stop dead in her tracks. Something was moving behind her, trying to be silent and her entire body tensed. With barely the whisper of a blade coming from its sheath she drew the ever present crow dagger from her thigh, cursing that she hadn't yet donned her swords. The movement of air was her only warning and she spun, bringing the curved blade up to block the oncoming assult of two with a clang. Long daggers, only barely smaller than her short swords, rested against her one shorter blade as their wielder fell from the rafters and landed gracefully on his feet, taller than she though not towering. Blonde hair was shining as usual and had grown quite a bit, though still worn mostly down around his shoulders. Golden brown eyes were amused as they sat above a straight nose, full lips, and chiselled cheek bones. Dark tattoos stood out, one on the left side of his face that was quite similar to hers and another on the right that was not. Zevran grinned and his blades were back in their holders in an instant before he opened his arms wide. "You have remained vigilant, this is good!" He cheered.

She grinned outright and her blade went back as well before she threw herself into his embrace. They pounded each other's backs like brothers and she enjoyed the scent of her dear friend. The antivan crow had returned to Ferelden.


End file.
